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I write novels, eat dark chocolate, raise three children, love my husband, scrub toilets, ignore the laundry, and love a good story, but hardly ever in that order.

OPERATION BONNET

STRETCH MARKS

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ACT TWO

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BALANCING ACT

Wednesday, March 6, 2013

Do as I say...


The danger of having children is that they imitate you. Sometimes this is flattering, like when they quote your favorite poet or sing your favorite Puccini aria. I speak hypothetically as this has not yet happened at our home. But there are nice imitations, I'm sure of it.

And then there are those days when imitation is not flattery at all. Instead, imitation is one way to work up a scarlet blush in front of your pastor. ("My mom has boobies and my dad does not!") Imitation can make you question if you have ruined your children forever, and they haven't even made it to middle school. (Shrieking at a teddy bear: "Stop crying or you're going to have the longest time-out in history!") And imitation can remind you of your need to go shopping.

We need new bedroom curtains. It is so bright in there, I often wake up worried that I now live on the surface of the sun. Things are so dire, I have taken to sleeping with a black tank top on my head so I can fake my eyeballs into deep slumber.

Today I came upon a four-year-old in the midst of a very technical game of pretend. She was at the part of the game when she was taking her pretend nap. I inspired her eyewear.
Time to go shopping, people. I need curtains. My daughter is wearing her shorts on her head and thinks this is normal sleeping behavior. I'm shopping and then I'm going to start learning poetry and arias so Thea can spout those off, word by word, note by note, in the spitting image of her mother. 

3 comments:

  1. Um, Josh sleeps with a pillow over his eyes and we have curtains AND black-out panels.

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  2. :) At least she picked cute shorts and not dirty underwear.

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  3. Sarah, hilarious. Please mock him for me, but not too much because I do use a black tank top.

    Makila, I could not agree more. There are worse things. Much, much worse.

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