January in Pennsylvania is...cold. We're all sorts of pent up in those parts in January. It's no wonder women (and Darby) dream dreams. It's no wonder that creative minds blaze like wildfire (or is that her hair)! I had two people explain to me "run-ins" with Darby last January. One in a dream. One in an oil change center. Both are noteworthy:
My good friend, Beth, knows Darby well. We're like extended family, us and the "E'brodes." I'm not surprised she dreamed about a run in with the redhead. It went down like this.
First of all, if you've been around long enough, you KNOW The Pixie loves...LOVES...Purple. If it's purple-GREAT! If it's a purple DRESS...BETTER! In her dream, Beth said that I took Darby to the doctor because she was "out of sorts." First of all, I feel like we live LIFE in "out of sorts," what IS "normal," after all? The doctor asked if Darby had been under any stress lately. I replied that I had just purchased a blue, gingham bedding set for her, and she had a complete meltdown. We know better than that. No WAY blue would fly with that little girl! Doctor's orders? CANCEL THE ORDER. DEFINITELY BUY PURPLE! The dream went on, but I would like to state, for the record, that I am NOT the mom who takes her children to the doctor because they are "out of sorts!" You should know me better than THAT, Beth! My children have to be on their death bed in order for me to pay that $12 copay!
The run-in with our friend, Michelle at the oil change center was noteworthy as well:
"Darby
put magic dust on me and apparently I am now a mermaid. Naomi put magic
dust on me and I am also a frog! Interesting combination to say the
least...." My reply? "I
think those actually exist in the hit preschool show, 'Bubble Guppies'!
HAHAHA! Oh man...and the stories keep...on...COMING! That's the
second Pixie story I've gotten from SOMEONE ELSE today!!!"
Yes. The stories keep coming. I experience them live and in living color daily, but it's funny when everyone else tells me THEIR stories. I think people secretly think that THEIR stories will somehow trump MY stories. But, hey. If you LIVE with someone...you gon' have some STORIES!
January 16, 2013:
Me: "Darby! Let's go to the potty!"
Darby: "I'm good."
(Never trust a three-year-old when they tell you that. It's a lie.)
Tuesday, October 1, 2013
Thursday, January 10, 2013
Darby to the Rescue!
After a fun time watching Dora, Diego and Team Umizoomi, it was nap time.
Sometimes, she naps.
Sometimes, she doesn't.
There is no method or rhythm to the madness.
Regardless, she plays in her room because Mommy (I mean, The Redhead) needs a quiet time.
Typically, on days where she has (and I have) her (my) quiet time(s), I will return to the remains of what used to be her bedroom, only to find Barbies, books and dress up clothes strewn about. On a bad day, she will have sprinkled baby powder around or strewn the entire tub of wipes about in a champion-like effort to change her own diaper. You never know what you're going to get behind door number 1.
Today, I went upstairs to finish a couple chores. The tv was still on, and the volume was obnoxiously loud. Darby could still hear it behind closed door number 1. Heck, I could still hear it in my bathroom! You'd think I would have remembered to turn it off in order to save myself from running the risk of having the Diego theme song play over and over in my head for the remainder of the day.
A few minutes later, I heard Darby call out from underneath the door, "Don't worry, Diego! I'm coming to help you!!!"
No, no, no, little Red.
Diego has plenty of help...and Mommy needs a break.
He has Dora, and Boots, and that Swiper fellow...
...wait, Swiper's the "bad guy," right?
Well, he has various talking jungle animals and that Animal Scientist (is that his mother?).
Come to think of it, what kind of mom let's her, say, ten-year-old roam the jungle and come within inches of wild animals of all sorts in order to take a picture?! Who do they think they are, Nat Geo? What kind of mom am I letting my kids watch a show where the characters wander off into a jungle in search of a JAGUAR?!!! What is that teaching them?! Next thing I know, my kids will be wandering off into the woods, too! What if they take my new Canon?! Gasp! What if they break it?!
I think I have enough "dirt" on Diego to declare it "off limits" in my house now.
("YES!")
Mom victory.
Sometimes, she naps.
Sometimes, she doesn't.
There is no method or rhythm to the madness.
Regardless, she plays in her room because Mommy (I mean, The Redhead) needs a quiet time.
Typically, on days where she has (and I have) her (my) quiet time(s), I will return to the remains of what used to be her bedroom, only to find Barbies, books and dress up clothes strewn about. On a bad day, she will have sprinkled baby powder around or strewn the entire tub of wipes about in a champion-like effort to change her own diaper. You never know what you're going to get behind door number 1.
Today, I went upstairs to finish a couple chores. The tv was still on, and the volume was obnoxiously loud. Darby could still hear it behind closed door number 1. Heck, I could still hear it in my bathroom! You'd think I would have remembered to turn it off in order to save myself from running the risk of having the Diego theme song play over and over in my head for the remainder of the day.
A few minutes later, I heard Darby call out from underneath the door, "Don't worry, Diego! I'm coming to help you!!!"
No, no, no, little Red.
Diego has plenty of help...and Mommy needs a break.
He has Dora, and Boots, and that Swiper fellow...
...wait, Swiper's the "bad guy," right?
Well, he has various talking jungle animals and that Animal Scientist (is that his mother?).
Come to think of it, what kind of mom let's her, say, ten-year-old roam the jungle and come within inches of wild animals of all sorts in order to take a picture?! Who do they think they are, Nat Geo? What kind of mom am I letting my kids watch a show where the characters wander off into a jungle in search of a JAGUAR?!!! What is that teaching them?! Next thing I know, my kids will be wandering off into the woods, too! What if they take my new Canon?! Gasp! What if they break it?!
I think I have enough "dirt" on Diego to declare it "off limits" in my house now.
("YES!")
Mom victory.
Where did the ornaments go?
We have a Christmas tradition.
Every year, the weekend after Thanksgiving, our family bundles up and heads to the local tree farm. We take our black lab, Molly, and we hike the hills, the rows and rows of trees until we find "the one." After we find it, we take our picture in front of it and flag the guy on the four wheeler to come cut it down, throw it on his trailer and cart it in. We watch as they put it in "the shaker" to shake the dead needles off. We watch as they send it through that weird machine that bundles it up, and then we spend a good ten minutes tying that bad boy up on the roof of our car to make the trek home. When we get home, we hunt down the tree stand, lug the tree inside and spend a good 20 minutes trying to crank the screws into place only to find out the tree is crooked. After we finally get our tree situated, I spend a good, solid two hours putting the lights on before we begin the trimming. After vacuuming up the needles, watering and making sure the lights are off every time we leave the house, we get to remove our tradition from our house, only this time it's dead as a door nail and drops half its weight worth of needles on its way out the front door. After a good (I'm talkin' GOOD) vacuum, it sits outside for a few weeks until "Christmas Tree Pickup Day." End tradition.
I have asthma, allergies and now seriously bad eczema. Last Christmas, I spent most of December with sunglasses on because my eyes were so swollen it was actually embarrassing. And, when I got tired of retelling the story of how my husband does NOT beat me, I realized something had to go...our beloved Christmas tradition. The next Christmas would hold for us (much to my demise) a new tradition...the fake tree.
Christmas of 2012 came upon us like a freight train. I was two weeks late getting the Christmas tree up, in part because I was dreading going out and buying a fake tree. I was mourning the loss of our tradition, but we needed a tree. So, I began the process of trying to buy a fake tree that looked EXACTLY like a REAL tree (haha!). I went to Target, Kmart, Hobby Lobby (where the Pixie almost took out every fake tree in their little fake tree forest), and finally...Lowes. I looked at the trees with a critical eye. I checked out the pricing, the options (do you know they have revolving trees now), and their "real likedness," I bit the bullet and threw the best looking 8 ft tree I could find on the cart.
We decorated it, just like we normally would have...heavily ornamented on the bottom half. Darby decorated and redecorated, rearranged and rearranged for the duration of the Christmas season. Every day, ornaments were in a new place. It was sort of like an expanded version of "Elf on the Shelf" to include ornaments moving daily to a new location. However, one day in particular, I left the room. When I returned, ALL of the ornaments were GONE! I'm talkin', the ornaments at the top of the TREE were gone! I panicked for a split second, because I have some sentimental ornaments. As calmly as I could, I asked The Pixie where the ornaments were. With a shrug of the shoulder, she cooly replied, "I don't know." A slight panic arose in my body. I scoured the main level of our house for our ornaments. It's The Pixie we're talking about! They could have been ANYWHERE! I even checked the backyard, wondering if she pitched them over the side of the deck into the snow! I did not find them. Then, I went back to the tree to check the backside. Did she take ALL of the ornaments? I only left for a minute or two! How could that even have happened?! The farther I stepped into the back of the tree, the more familiar the ornaments became. I looked up and saw "Our first Christmas" ornament. THERE they were! They were ALL on the tree. It was an awkward feat to rotate the tree 180 degrees to the original position, but I did it. I looked from the tree to the couch, where she was sitting, happily watching Dora, and back to the tree. Pixie, Tree. Pixie, Tree. Three feet tall, Eight feet tall. Three, eight. HOW?
Never mind. If I tried to understand the goings on inside her brain...
Just...never mind.
Every year, the weekend after Thanksgiving, our family bundles up and heads to the local tree farm. We take our black lab, Molly, and we hike the hills, the rows and rows of trees until we find "the one." After we find it, we take our picture in front of it and flag the guy on the four wheeler to come cut it down, throw it on his trailer and cart it in. We watch as they put it in "the shaker" to shake the dead needles off. We watch as they send it through that weird machine that bundles it up, and then we spend a good ten minutes tying that bad boy up on the roof of our car to make the trek home. When we get home, we hunt down the tree stand, lug the tree inside and spend a good 20 minutes trying to crank the screws into place only to find out the tree is crooked. After we finally get our tree situated, I spend a good, solid two hours putting the lights on before we begin the trimming. After vacuuming up the needles, watering and making sure the lights are off every time we leave the house, we get to remove our tradition from our house, only this time it's dead as a door nail and drops half its weight worth of needles on its way out the front door. After a good (I'm talkin' GOOD) vacuum, it sits outside for a few weeks until "Christmas Tree Pickup Day." End tradition.
I have asthma, allergies and now seriously bad eczema. Last Christmas, I spent most of December with sunglasses on because my eyes were so swollen it was actually embarrassing. And, when I got tired of retelling the story of how my husband does NOT beat me, I realized something had to go...our beloved Christmas tradition. The next Christmas would hold for us (much to my demise) a new tradition...the fake tree.
Christmas of 2012 came upon us like a freight train. I was two weeks late getting the Christmas tree up, in part because I was dreading going out and buying a fake tree. I was mourning the loss of our tradition, but we needed a tree. So, I began the process of trying to buy a fake tree that looked EXACTLY like a REAL tree (haha!). I went to Target, Kmart, Hobby Lobby (where the Pixie almost took out every fake tree in their little fake tree forest), and finally...Lowes. I looked at the trees with a critical eye. I checked out the pricing, the options (do you know they have revolving trees now), and their "real likedness," I bit the bullet and threw the best looking 8 ft tree I could find on the cart.
We decorated it, just like we normally would have...heavily ornamented on the bottom half. Darby decorated and redecorated, rearranged and rearranged for the duration of the Christmas season. Every day, ornaments were in a new place. It was sort of like an expanded version of "Elf on the Shelf" to include ornaments moving daily to a new location. However, one day in particular, I left the room. When I returned, ALL of the ornaments were GONE! I'm talkin', the ornaments at the top of the TREE were gone! I panicked for a split second, because I have some sentimental ornaments. As calmly as I could, I asked The Pixie where the ornaments were. With a shrug of the shoulder, she cooly replied, "I don't know." A slight panic arose in my body. I scoured the main level of our house for our ornaments. It's The Pixie we're talking about! They could have been ANYWHERE! I even checked the backyard, wondering if she pitched them over the side of the deck into the snow! I did not find them. Then, I went back to the tree to check the backside. Did she take ALL of the ornaments? I only left for a minute or two! How could that even have happened?! The farther I stepped into the back of the tree, the more familiar the ornaments became. I looked up and saw "Our first Christmas" ornament. THERE they were! They were ALL on the tree. It was an awkward feat to rotate the tree 180 degrees to the original position, but I did it. I looked from the tree to the couch, where she was sitting, happily watching Dora, and back to the tree. Pixie, Tree. Pixie, Tree. Three feet tall, Eight feet tall. Three, eight. HOW?
Never mind. If I tried to understand the goings on inside her brain...
Just...never mind.
Wednesday, January 9, 2013
Darby CAN walk.
I HAVE TO WONDER:
WHAT, exactly, do doctor's offices give you an appointment time for?
WHY do they cancel your appointment when you are 15 minutes late when they lock you in a room with three (plus) things: books, a table with an entire roll of paper, and chairs?
Do they KNOW what we can DO with those things? We are like a modern day MACGYVER, folks!
You get the point. The doctor made us wait. I actually texted my friend, Kristin:
"Oh. My. Gosh. I want to gouge my eyes out! How long must we wait for the doctor? FOR CRYIN' OUT LOUD!"
Her reply: "It's like part of their hippocratic oath...must make patient wait for obscene amounts of time before seeing them for two minutes."
Meanwhile, it probably sounded like I was throwing my children up against the wall, chairs scooting across the floor, paper ripping...
FINALLY, the doctor walked in and hesitantly eyed me..."Is she ticked?" Whatever, I just smiled. This is my life.
Our doctor's office, not unlike our church, gives out lollipops after your visit. "The Pixie" caught on to this "perk" real quick! So, our well check visit went something like this:
Doc: "Can you open your mouth really wide?"
Red: "Can I have a lollipop?"
Doc: "Yes! After I finish looking."
(Doc looks in mouth)
Red: "Can I have a lollipop now?"
Doc: "Let me hear your back first."
(Doc puts stethoscope to her back)
Red: "Can I have a lollipop now?"
Doc: "Let me feel your face and your belly first. Will you lay down?"
Red (completely...COMPLETELY compliant): "Can I have a lollipop now?"
Doc (laughing): "Just a minute. I'm going to finish my exam first, okay?"
(Doc pushes on Darby's belly etc)
Red: "Can I have a lollipop now?"
Doc: "Let's take your shoes off and stand up on the floor."
(Red throws her shoes off, jumps down and stands up...following directions flawlessly)
Red (guess what she said): "Can I have a lollipop now?"
Doc: "Darby. Will you walk to the other side of the room?"
Then something happened that I have NOT EVER seen before.
Darby...
...walked.
She WALKED!
The "Little Redhead Pixie," after skipping, running, jumping through life for THREE YEARS...walked. I was stunned. My jaw hit the floor. I actually said to the doctor, "I'm not sure I have ever seen her walk before!"
And THEN...
Red: "Can I have a lollipop now?"
Oh, dear me.
GIVE THE GIRL A LOLLIPOP!
JUST GIVE IT TO HER!
In fact, maybe I should carry around a stash in my gigantic purse to use for episodes which would require bribery to achieve a successful result.
I'm not above bribery.
WHAT, exactly, do doctor's offices give you an appointment time for?
WHY do they cancel your appointment when you are 15 minutes late when they lock you in a room with three (plus) things: books, a table with an entire roll of paper, and chairs?
Do they KNOW what we can DO with those things? We are like a modern day MACGYVER, folks!
You get the point. The doctor made us wait. I actually texted my friend, Kristin:
"Oh. My. Gosh. I want to gouge my eyes out! How long must we wait for the doctor? FOR CRYIN' OUT LOUD!"
Her reply: "It's like part of their hippocratic oath...must make patient wait for obscene amounts of time before seeing them for two minutes."
Meanwhile, it probably sounded like I was throwing my children up against the wall, chairs scooting across the floor, paper ripping...
FINALLY, the doctor walked in and hesitantly eyed me..."Is she ticked?" Whatever, I just smiled. This is my life.
Our doctor's office, not unlike our church, gives out lollipops after your visit. "The Pixie" caught on to this "perk" real quick! So, our well check visit went something like this:
Doc: "Can you open your mouth really wide?"
Red: "Can I have a lollipop?"
Doc: "Yes! After I finish looking."
(Doc looks in mouth)
Red: "Can I have a lollipop now?"
Doc: "Let me hear your back first."
(Doc puts stethoscope to her back)
Red: "Can I have a lollipop now?"
Doc: "Let me feel your face and your belly first. Will you lay down?"
Red (completely...COMPLETELY compliant): "Can I have a lollipop now?"
Doc (laughing): "Just a minute. I'm going to finish my exam first, okay?"
(Doc pushes on Darby's belly etc)
Red: "Can I have a lollipop now?"
Doc: "Let's take your shoes off and stand up on the floor."
(Red throws her shoes off, jumps down and stands up...following directions flawlessly)
Red (guess what she said): "Can I have a lollipop now?"
Doc: "Darby. Will you walk to the other side of the room?"
Then something happened that I have NOT EVER seen before.
Darby...
...walked.
She WALKED!
The "Little Redhead Pixie," after skipping, running, jumping through life for THREE YEARS...walked. I was stunned. My jaw hit the floor. I actually said to the doctor, "I'm not sure I have ever seen her walk before!"
And THEN...
Red: "Can I have a lollipop now?"
Oh, dear me.
GIVE THE GIRL A LOLLIPOP!
JUST GIVE IT TO HER!
In fact, maybe I should carry around a stash in my gigantic purse to use for episodes which would require bribery to achieve a successful result.
I'm not above bribery.
Tuesday, January 8, 2013
Swim Lessons
Something had to happen.
We HAD to get OUT of this house on a regular basis!
NO MORE BARBIE!
NO MORE FOOD MESSES!
NO MORE...BARBIE!
It is a HARD job to be a stay-at-home mom! I'm not trying to "downgrade" how hard working moms work. I KNOW their job is HARD, too! But, it is HARD to deal with children from before sun up to WELL after the sun sinks into the horizon! Imagine being tested in every single thing you said and did all...day...long. ...EVERY day. It's exhausting...thankless...humbling. One day last week, I had had enough. I had a "Mommy meltdown" of sorts. The next morning, my husband told me he wanted me to go sign our family up at our local YMCA, so after I worked out, showered, got the kids up and ready for school, and after I took the girls to the doctor and then out to lunch and then, and then and then, and before MY doctor's appointment, I went to the YMCA and signed our family up. I also signed "The Pixie" and myself up for Mommy-n-Me gymnastics and swim lessons. We had our first swim lesson on Friday.
I was somewhat afraid of this hour long swim lesson. I mean, I'm a strong swimmer. I was a lifeguard in high school, but I'm no Navy Seal, and I've never been trained in water combat. I also had a feeling I was going into a situation in which water combat, armed or unarmed, would be necessary. A friend told me I'd be fine, but to wear a life jacket. I didn't.
The night before, I dug out our swimsuits, towels, shampoo etc. The next morning, we headed out for our swim lesson. Darby was PUMPED! We threw our suits on, and I realized we might have a small problem. The suits being the "problem." Darby's, even though it was a 4T, was seriously tight. Mine, because I haven't pulled my lap swim speedo out in a couple years, had essentially turned into a crumbly, stretched out mess. It was hanging off my butt! I actually had to gather the material and hold it when I was out of the pool so I didn't accidentally moon anyone! Darby, on the other hand, absolutely mooned EVERYONE! Her little bitty backside had a perpetual wedgie going on. She didn't care. No one else seemed to care, and I went to Target the very next day to buy her a new suit.
Darby is a WATER...BABY.
Every time she climbed out of the pool, she'd question, "Can I do it AGAIN?!" Then, before I counted to three, she was flying through the air, red hair blazing, right in my direction. Mouth full of water? No problem! "Can I do it again?" Near drowning experience? No problem! "Can I do it again?"
"Can I do it again?
Can I do it again?
Can I do it again?"
I almost went rogue several times when these little "water babies" and their moms were taking so long they may as well have been swimming through molasses!
"Can I do it again?"
"YES! Let's wait for your teacher to tell us what to do first!"
"Can I do it (she jumps and flies through the air, hits the water, pops through the surface and gasps, water dripping down her face) again?"
"Yes. Just...yes. Do it again! Just...do it again!"
We had a little play time at the end of class, and she was happily sitting on the side of the pool. I told her to stay there and watch me swim to the other side. I took off, swimming freestyle, to the other side of the pool. As I was on my way back, swimming breaststroke, Darby stood up and, you got it, JUMPED! I kicked it in to high gear while the teacher and all the other moms abandoned their posts next to their own little water babies in order to save mine.
Ultimately, we survived and will try again this Friday (after I go to the local sporting goods store to buy a new speedo~wink, wink).
So, here's to water babies everywhere!
Can we do it again?!
We HAD to get OUT of this house on a regular basis!
NO MORE BARBIE!
NO MORE FOOD MESSES!
NO MORE...BARBIE!
It is a HARD job to be a stay-at-home mom! I'm not trying to "downgrade" how hard working moms work. I KNOW their job is HARD, too! But, it is HARD to deal with children from before sun up to WELL after the sun sinks into the horizon! Imagine being tested in every single thing you said and did all...day...long. ...EVERY day. It's exhausting...thankless...humbling. One day last week, I had had enough. I had a "Mommy meltdown" of sorts. The next morning, my husband told me he wanted me to go sign our family up at our local YMCA, so after I worked out, showered, got the kids up and ready for school, and after I took the girls to the doctor and then out to lunch and then, and then and then, and before MY doctor's appointment, I went to the YMCA and signed our family up. I also signed "The Pixie" and myself up for Mommy-n-Me gymnastics and swim lessons. We had our first swim lesson on Friday.
I was somewhat afraid of this hour long swim lesson. I mean, I'm a strong swimmer. I was a lifeguard in high school, but I'm no Navy Seal, and I've never been trained in water combat. I also had a feeling I was going into a situation in which water combat, armed or unarmed, would be necessary. A friend told me I'd be fine, but to wear a life jacket. I didn't.
The night before, I dug out our swimsuits, towels, shampoo etc. The next morning, we headed out for our swim lesson. Darby was PUMPED! We threw our suits on, and I realized we might have a small problem. The suits being the "problem." Darby's, even though it was a 4T, was seriously tight. Mine, because I haven't pulled my lap swim speedo out in a couple years, had essentially turned into a crumbly, stretched out mess. It was hanging off my butt! I actually had to gather the material and hold it when I was out of the pool so I didn't accidentally moon anyone! Darby, on the other hand, absolutely mooned EVERYONE! Her little bitty backside had a perpetual wedgie going on. She didn't care. No one else seemed to care, and I went to Target the very next day to buy her a new suit.
Darby is a WATER...BABY.
Every time she climbed out of the pool, she'd question, "Can I do it AGAIN?!" Then, before I counted to three, she was flying through the air, red hair blazing, right in my direction. Mouth full of water? No problem! "Can I do it again?" Near drowning experience? No problem! "Can I do it again?"
"Can I do it again?
Can I do it again?
Can I do it again?"
I almost went rogue several times when these little "water babies" and their moms were taking so long they may as well have been swimming through molasses!
"Can I do it again?"
"YES! Let's wait for your teacher to tell us what to do first!"
"Can I do it (she jumps and flies through the air, hits the water, pops through the surface and gasps, water dripping down her face) again?"
"Yes. Just...yes. Do it again! Just...do it again!"
We had a little play time at the end of class, and she was happily sitting on the side of the pool. I told her to stay there and watch me swim to the other side. I took off, swimming freestyle, to the other side of the pool. As I was on my way back, swimming breaststroke, Darby stood up and, you got it, JUMPED! I kicked it in to high gear while the teacher and all the other moms abandoned their posts next to their own little water babies in order to save mine.
Ultimately, we survived and will try again this Friday (after I go to the local sporting goods store to buy a new speedo~wink, wink).
So, here's to water babies everywhere!
Can we do it again?!
Monday, January 7, 2013
She's no "Snugglebug."
She only likes to snuggle if it's HER idea...
My conversation with Darby first thing this morning:
Me: "Come snuggle with me!"
Darby: "NO! I don't want to!"
Me: "I want to! Come snuggle!"
Darby: "I want to eat breakfast."
Me: "Snuggle!"
Darby: "No. You can snuggle with nothing."
Then she walked away.
Totally happened.
My conversation with Darby first thing this morning:
Me: "Come snuggle with me!"
Darby: "NO! I don't want to!"
Me: "I want to! Come snuggle!"
Darby: "I want to eat breakfast."
Me: "Snuggle!"
Darby: "No. You can snuggle with nothing."
Then she walked away.
Totally happened.
Lil' Red's Grinch Dream
It was Christmas time.
As we were getting ready in our bathroom one weekend morning, when "The Pixie" meandered in and nonchalantly began, "Last night, a BIG TRUCK pulled up and stole all our Christmas decorations!!!" It didn't take long for us to figure out she was telling us about a dream she had the night before. Well, either that, or she saw the trash truck and thought the trash man was taking more than just our junk. The strange thing is that the girl hasn't seen the movie "The Grinch that Stole Christmas"! If I take the decorations down outside, will she think the trash man took them?
It's January now. I don't know if that dream just had a big impact on her little red head, or what, but she keeps bringing this dream up. Maybe it is just a recurring nightmare she has been having. You know, like the one I had when I was a kid where the monsters chased me down this long corridor until I came to a carnival stand where Bob Saget, who was convincingly dressed as my dad, promised to usher me to safety. Mama didn't raise no fool. I knew it was Bob, and I continued running. Dreams are weird, but I have to say that Darby's dream of the Christmas decoration thief probably trumps my childhood nightmare of having to choose between a life of luxury on the set of "Full House" and my own life (monsters and all).
Maybe, if I listen more closely to what my redhead has to say, I will have a topic for an AMAZING children's book one day!
I resend my statement. I think she might BE the topic for an amazing children's book one day!!!
Curious Darby, anyone?
As we were getting ready in our bathroom one weekend morning, when "The Pixie" meandered in and nonchalantly began, "Last night, a BIG TRUCK pulled up and stole all our Christmas decorations!!!" It didn't take long for us to figure out she was telling us about a dream she had the night before. Well, either that, or she saw the trash truck and thought the trash man was taking more than just our junk. The strange thing is that the girl hasn't seen the movie "The Grinch that Stole Christmas"! If I take the decorations down outside, will she think the trash man took them?
It's January now. I don't know if that dream just had a big impact on her little red head, or what, but she keeps bringing this dream up. Maybe it is just a recurring nightmare she has been having. You know, like the one I had when I was a kid where the monsters chased me down this long corridor until I came to a carnival stand where Bob Saget, who was convincingly dressed as my dad, promised to usher me to safety. Mama didn't raise no fool. I knew it was Bob, and I continued running. Dreams are weird, but I have to say that Darby's dream of the Christmas decoration thief probably trumps my childhood nightmare of having to choose between a life of luxury on the set of "Full House" and my own life (monsters and all).
Maybe, if I listen more closely to what my redhead has to say, I will have a topic for an AMAZING children's book one day!
I resend my statement. I think she might BE the topic for an amazing children's book one day!!!
Curious Darby, anyone?
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