A Telling Yarn

By
So, we’re shopping in JoAnne’s Fabrics for Halloween costume supplies and I see this incredible, one-pound skein of fluffy yarn. It’s glorious – and HUGE.

I grab it up, whirl toward the three puffs following me, and chirp, “Come here!”

The older two instantly scatter. Quokka jumps backward and runs three steps. Athena dodges to the side and runs ahead.

Sweet little Badger, who’s still only six, steps up, “What?” And then stumbles to the side under the solid thump from the enormous skein whapping her shoulder and side.


I laugh like mad, hug her and toss the yarn back into the bin. The other two warily approach once they see I’ve disarmed.

“Two things are clear right now. One, I’m a terrible mother because I like whacking you guys with fluffy things so much you instinctively dodge away as soon as I pick it up. Two, poor Badger is too young to have learned not to trust me.”

Athena rushed over to hug and reassure me, “No, you’re a great mom!”

“But you don’t trust me?”

“Not when you have something fuffy. You whacked me with bread!”

Quokka approached gingerly and patted my shoulder, “You’re a fun mom. We just know you’re going to try and whap us if you have something fluffy. Don’t worry, Badger will figure it out. She’s six, but she’ll start running too.”

Yay, parenting.

Honestly, if we can’t whap them with fluffy things, why do we even feed them, right?




Popular posts from this blog

Action Princesses Save the Day

By
Image
Three kids is only one more than two. I know, it's simple math.  It's amazing how hard that one extra kid can make parenting sometimes, especially now that we're outnumbered and none of our kids are what you'd call sedate, but it's just one more kid. Yet, the real difference between two and three is how people react to seeing me out and about with my three girls. I was mom to two girls for four years before number three joined the troop, so I've noticed the difference in commentary and reaction from the judging public (and it's amazing how many people feel compelled to say something). With just the two girls, I got a lot of compliments on the cute and how great sisters are. With three, I get a lot of, “whoa, three girls!!!” And then one of two follow-ups; either, “Wow, that’s going to be really rough when they’re teenagers,” or, “Well, you're lucky, at least girls are more cautious and quiet, three boys would be so much tougher.” I want to smack the...
Read more

Cheetahs, and Dragons, and Angels, Oh My!

By
Image
One of the things I love best about having kids, besides the unquestioning acceptance of whatever weirdness I feel like dishing out at any given moment, is that they remind me to be imaginative and see wonder everywhere. Sure, I dump water on some of the magic with facts and science-y explanations, but they always bring the wonder. But then, when I consider the science from a child’s perspective, it reminds me that the cold hard facts are pretty miraculous too.  Simple things like lightning, wind and how a cloud forms are fantastic and amazing again – they remind me to look and notice and marvel at something as simple as the sparkling dew on our windshield this morning. And then there’s Quokka, who drives me to rediscover my creativity and reminds me that I was once a fantastical kid before adult responsibility sobered me up like a hard slap to the face. Some part of me let go of that wild, impractical imagination because it didn't serve a purpose. I spent more time on “real” ...
Read more

Floored

By
Image
The dog died and our last reason for not doing something about our awful, disgusting carpet died with him. When we bought the house 12 years ago, we were informed the owner had installed the cheapest possible carpet to sell the place. It was indeed cheap, and crappy, and really light beige. But, you know, kids and dogs, and potty training, and chocolate milk, and juice, and muddy shoes… We just…let it ride…for more than a decade. Once, in a fit of exhaustion, I ripped the carpet out of the dining room, which was also the main traffic pattern in the house – path to the kitchen and all – because I couldn’t face the futile task of cleaning it one more time. We polished the slab, applied some sealer, and had a “designer” cement floor for a couple of years. The rest of the house was a scruffy calico of cheap oak veneer, tile, and fraying carpet mottled with stains. The stairs in particular were bad – both ugly and approaching official bio-hazard designation. I was repelled...
Read more