I Can't Make This Stuff Up

We were at my parents' house this weekend, and my mother, my father and I were downstairs watching the Oscars. (If this was the kind of blog where I ranted about such things, I would have a a few things to say about James Franco's performance, but it's not so I shall leave it be.) The kids were upstairs with their father, who was changing Matthew's diaper. All of a sudden I hear my husband yell, "ANNA! TAKE THAT TO GRANDPA NOW!"

"Oh man," I said, "this can't be good."

My dad made no move to get up, so I figured he hadn't heard. I got up to go take whatever it was away from Anna.

Now, at this point I should explain that I completely psyched up to see a knife in her hand. We had celebrated Matthew's 1st birthday party that day, and between cake and presents and overcoming those little plastic ties on the back of toy packages, there had been some knife action. I figured someone had simply left one out and Anna had grabbed it - it had happened before.

So as I got up and headed to the staircase to meet Anna, I was telling myself "Don't panic, just slowly take it away from her, if she gets scared she could hurt herself, just stay calm." I was completely prepped for a knife.

I met Anna at the stairs, and as she reached out her little hand to dutifully give me what she had found, I let out a scream the likes of which I had never screamed before.

It. Was. A. Mouse.

A dead one, as it turned out, but I didn't know that at the time. All I saw was my precious little daughter holding a RODENT. And so...I screamed.

Poor Anna. She thought she had done something wrong. She dropped it and ran off to hide in the corner of the kitchen. I proceeded to have hysterics as mass chaos broke out all about me.

Dad ran upstairs to find Anna. Mom tried to call me down. And all this time, my husband was desperately trying to get his hands out of the stinky diaper so he could come help with the chaos.

Eventually I calmed down enough to pull Anna into my lap. She was sobbing and saying, "I'm sorry, Mommy!" Great. Now she thought I was MAD at her for doing exactly what her daddy said to do - bring the mouse to us.

I reassured her that no one was mad and that she had been a very good little girl, doing exactly what she was supposed to. I asked where she had found it, and she said, "under the table!" her little lip quivering with an uncertainty that Mommy really wasn't mad at her.

My parents' cat is a great mouser, and he likes to occasionally leave little "gifts" so everyone know he is doing his job. Anna found it and took it to her dad, who told her to take it to grandpa.

I briefly thought about asking her if she had put it in her mouth...but then I decided that sometimes, ignorance is bliss.

I'm still screaming somewhat on the inside...

Breakfast At My House

This morning at breakfast, Anna held her hand up to her ear and said "I'm calling on the telephone. Grandma? Mema? Hello?" Pretty soon she was talking to Grandpa about fishing. "Grandpa? You have a fish for me?"

Joshua, in his best big-brother, I-know-everything-voice, said "His name is Monty."

"NO IT'S NOT!" Anna cried out.

"Yes it is, Anna, his name is MONTY," replied Mr. Know-it-All.

"NO IT'S NOT NO IT'S NOT NO IT'S NOT HIS NAME IS GRANDPA!"

I intervened at this point and said, "Anna, he has two names. He is Monty and Grandpa."

"He is?" she asked, confused.

"Yes, different people call him different things," I replied.

Her little lip started to quiver at this point and she said "But I don't WANT to call him Monty!!"

"Well, what do you want to call him?" I asked, knowing the answer.

"GRANDPA!!!"

"Then that is what you should call him, Anna. You call him Grandpa."

So she picked up her "phone" again and proceeded to have a lengthy conversation with Grandpa about fishing.

And that is how breakfast works at my house.