Vignette Number 1:
Saturday night we celebrated my little brother's eighteenth birthday. He is quite grown up, 6 foot tall, plays football, rides a motorcycle, legal and all. Until my cousin's four year old son chased him all around the house. The 18 year old ran and screamed in fear and Brynna and the other 4 year old giggled maniacally. Why? Because they had a frog, and he is apparently afraid of frogs.
Vignette Number 2:
I can't talk though because there was a dead mouse in my floor yesterday morning. (Yay cat!!) and I was so scared of a DEAD mouse that I: 1. screamed, 2. grabbed the baby up off the floor, 3. wouldn't let the kids back in the living room, and 4. insisted that The Husband get home before me so he could take care of it. I have no idea, by the way, what he did with the dead mouse, but if I find out that he put it in the trash receptacle, he will be taking out the trash for the rest of the week.
Vignette Number 3:
Brynna wants to go back to school so bad she can taste it. We are working on getting back on schedule and step 1 of that is re-learning to get up and eat breakfast at home. Every morning when I tell her to come and eat breakfast, she looks at me with absolute joy on her face and asks if she is going to school today. Every day I say no and watch her little face crush from the inside. I don't know if I can stand this until next Wednesday. I wonder if it's the age that makes her so in love with school, or if it's the school (we have a pretty great one, you know) or if it's just my genes. I don't think I ever once dreaded school. Okay, I had YEARS of dreading getting out of bed, but never of school. I hope that she loves it like I did.
Vignette Number 4:
Last night, The Husband gave Maren a little bit of hot fudge from his sundae. She was wired all night long. She may never be the same. I'm interested to hear if she suddenly insists on eating all chocolate all the time. Or maybe she'll eat better convinced that the chocolate is coming. In the meantime, I spent the majority of last night feeling like I was wrestling greased pigs on my bed. (I watched TV in bed most of last night, by the way, because I didn't feel up to mopping the living room floor yet and a mouse died in there, so it must be cleansed, completely. If I didn't have hardwood, I would insist on bleach.)
Vignette Number 5:
This morning, I opened Brynna's door at about 6:45. She opened her eyes, I said Hi and went back to my room to finished getting dressed. She usually requires 5 or 10 minutes to lay in bed and mourn the end of her sleep cycle before she can venture forth into polite society. After a few minutes I heard little feet in the hallway and then the toilet seat. I was impressed at how quickly she woke up. I left her in peace in the bathroom and continued gettting ready. I haven't worn earrings in so long, I had to re-pierce my ears in the backs and it was a little stressful. I was concentrating on not freaking everybody out by screaming first thing in the morning for the second day in a row, when I heard the side door open and close. I called Brynna's name and hurried through the house. I paused at her bedroom door, no Brynna, at the bathroom door, no Brynna, finally I emerged in the kitchen. I heard a plaintive cry from outside. I ran to the door and opened it up.
Brynna was standing, in her pajamas and no shoes on the edge of the deck yelling "Mommy, Daddy, come back for me. You left me here!!"
"Brynna! Come on back in the house, sweetie."
Brynna whirled around and relief and exclaimed, "I thought you had left with Daddy and I was all alone."
I picked her up and said, "I will NEVER leave you all alone."
"That's not what you say when I can't decide which shoes to wear."