Aug 21st, 2012 by Jennifer Lynn
Last night M. and I attempted to replace the control arm on my vehicle to fix a loose ball joint, but it was obvious something had gone terribly awry once he flipped the ignition and an explosive pop! and sickly grinding radiated from behind the tire, which produced a host of problems.
Soo, since Lexi and I are car-less today, I embraced the opportunity to clean a bit. Because someone has to do it.
* swished through each room, vacuuming and sweeping (as Lexi hooted and scootched after the vacuum)
* hand-washed, dried and carefully put away all the dishes
* scrubbed the cat box, with me carefully removing soiled litter and Lexi prancing after the unfortunate cat, gnawing on its tail
* polished counter tops and tables
(I turned for a millisecond and observed in horror as chubby, dimpled ankles poked from the garbage can.)
Immediately I prepped an extra sudsy bath and Lexi splashed in the luxurious silken bubbles as I vigorously scrubbed at rosy folds until everything felt sanitized again. As soon as I reached for a towel, she giggled and plopped her rubber ducky into the toilet.
I fished her toy out of the toilet.
Finally with bath time over, she settled into my lap for some reading, which went something like this:
Kit-ty? kit-ty. kit-ty. KIT-TY.
“Yes, Lexi, that is our cat.” I bobbed my head enthusiastically.
I gestured at various objects speckled across the sturdy cardboard pages of our story. You’re supposed to point things out to kids, right? They like that kind of stuff.
“Oooh, see Lexi, there’s a pretty red balloon! and a table…” KIT-TY “…and a bowl full of mush…” KIT-TY! “…see the old woman…” KIT-TY! “Lexi, see her rocking in the chair?”
Lexi ripped the book from my hand and it ricocheted off the hardwood floor. She grabbed another story, opened the pages midway through and scrunched her face: KIT-TY!
“No, baby, what you’re pointing at, is a walrus.”
KIT-TY! She turned the page. KIT-TY!!!
“That’s Mickey Mouse. A mouse!” I corrected brightly.
Big mistake. She wrinkled her nose and waited.
“A mouse, honey. And see, this is his doggy, Pluto.”
Her eyes narrowed, lower lip quivering. I was treading on thin ice. My shoulders slumped and I slowly turned the page, revealing a black and white cat swiping at a ball of yarn on Mickey’s rug.
“Oh, here you go, baby. A kitty. See? A cat. Kitty.”
Lexi glared as if I was the worst creature who ever lived. I stared back at her but all ready she sensed my uncertainty, my fear, and like any vigilant shark pup smelled blood. Too late—this infant train had careened from the station and choo-chooed its way straight into Becoming Derailed-ville.
“Lexi? It’s…see that, here. It’s a kitty.” I lamely tried to repent.
Gooshie-pie! Fat tears spasmed down her cheeks and she swiped at the offending page.
Goooooshie-pie, she wailed and crawled away, disgusted and seriously pissed.
So: that was my morning. How was yours?