“The Cat Scratched My Nose!” and Other Non-News

Sunday, January 31st 2016

Being that our Dear Daughter is prone to dramatic exaggeration these days, (“She’s a Writer!” says her amazing teacher), AND prone to Bandaids, Kitten provided the perfect recipe for ClaraJane’s favorite predilections this morning right out of the gate.

The cat scratched my nose!” she cries, climbing out from the rest of us all still playing and wrestling about in bed.   First, to the mirror, to observe what crying looks like today.  A few tears and then, “Mom can you get me a bandaid?”

“How about you get a stool and climb up to the top of the closet and get them yourself?” comes the pre-caffeinated reply.  Imagine her pride at succeeding at THAT, bandaging up herself AND validating her wound?

2016-01-31 09.51.00-2

Paydirt!

This is my view from a still lying-down position on bed this morning.  Looking to my left I see:

Gavin being

Gavin being “Tiny Package”

Oh look, Daddy’s up!  (I hope he brings me coffee.  Or tea?)  Soon the kids are playing -nicely!- near the foot of the bed.  “Would it ruin it if I said I am SO proud of you both right now?” I ask.

“Nooo,” they chime in agreement.  (Yeah right.)

“Why?” asks Gavin, “Because we’re building guns?”  (Ha.)

“Because we’re getting ALONG!” exclaims ClaraJane.  (Clever girl.)

“One of you is correct!” I say, which passes as pretty funny, to that audience anyway.

Before long I’m up getting dressed and about to make the bed when I notice something strange about it;

Actually not their bed

What Mom?

“You guys know that’s not actually your bed, right?” I ask.

“We’re getting ready to play ‘Hide and Shoot!‘” ClaraJane explains.

I turn back in resignation. “When I was a kid we called it ‘Hide and Seek.'”  (More Funny Mom points with the audience at hand.)   Before long they’re under the covers, apparently shooting each other with plastic hand-made guns.  Or something.  It’s peaceful so I no question.  I move on.

Turning around I encounter:

Cats, buliding blocks, trampoline

Detritus of Play

Cats, building blocks and trampoline kindly left obstructing the way to the door.  No problem.   Then around the corner I see;

Detreitus of I-Don't-Know-What

Detritus of I-Don’t-Know-What (& hungry cats)

And of course there’s more.  Minutes and hours of tidying, negotiations, pleas and threats stretch out before me, seeping away like the tide.  I understand why people don’t have kids, and I accept my fate.  If you need me I’ll be trying to remove marker from some inexplicable place it doesn’t belong.

But first, Le Coffee.

About circuskitchen

performing artist, mom, wife, daughter, sister, aunt, niece... just a regular extraordinary person
This entry was posted in animals, childhood, comedy, domestic life, faith, family, food, forgiveness, Friendship, health, love, marriage, mental health, parenthood, patience, work and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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