This morning I woke up already out of steam. I surmise it had a little something to do with being woken by someone at 4:00 a.m. A snoring someone who had surgery this week and could not help it. I decided that I would move to Miss Bit's bed since she was on the air mattress in our room. She was sleeping there because Fred Ducked taped her in her room the night before. She loves Fred, but was a little freaked out by his latest trick. I forgot about this silly prank as I stormed into her room in the pitch black dark and walked straight into a web of sticky tape. It sent me sailing, and maybe swearing too.
A couple hours later T. Bone turned his nose up to breakfast: an English muffin with peanut butter. All he had to do was look at me to smartly decide to eat it and say yum. Miss Bit went down the same path. I left her to eat her breakfast while I took T. Bone to school. Her place was clear, dishes in the dishwasher and she was playing on the computer when I returned. That was fishy. I asked her if she already ate her breakfast, and she answered emphatically (too emphatically), "Y!E!S!" Then I looked in the garbage to find a perfectly untouched English muffin. She looked like she had seen a ghost. "I'm sorry," she said busted. And I replied, "You should be. You lied and that's a sin." Nothing like a hearty dose of guilt to start your day. She retreated to her room where I found her crying into the fur of her softest Teddy bear. We talked it out and carried on with our day both learning valuable lessons.
After school, she bounded to the car excited to get a haircut. On her wish list: a sassy chin length bob. In route to the salon she sang Ode to Peace in the voice of an angel. Together we marveled at the thunder snow and I felt so grateful for my new tires as the snow accumulated beneath us.
On the way home, she waxed poetic on the end of the world more curious than worried. She carried on, "So wouldn't it be sad if a baby was born today and tomorrow the world ends and the baby was only one day old? So what is the chance the world will end tomorrow? Is it 50 percent, or 20 percent? Or is it 10 percent?" I told her it was zero percent and the proof of the impossibility was my shelling out thirty bucks for a haircut today. "I sure wouldn't bother if I thought we wouldn't even be here to capture your cuteness in Christmas photos in a few days." She responded, "True so true! I do look cute!"
She's been enthralled with her reflection all night. I cannot say I blame her.