In New England, and in Santa Cruz, California, I became acquainted with the "trust-fund kid" -- the snotnosed brat who never grew up, but only got bigger, and who had access to a vast ocean of family wealth with which to finance their various vaporous endeavors.
Today, Sharon and I realized that what we have might be called the "emergency-fund kid" -- the tow-headed little dandelion who hasn't grown up, but is getting bigger, and whose various vaporous endeavors are cleaned up by the family emergency fund.
It began when Sharon and I, trying to get a few more minutes sleep, unleashed her on the house unsupervised, thinking that all valuable and breakable items had been put up safely out of her reach. We heard various sounds -- wipes being pulled from the container, books coming off her shelf, her dresser drawers opening -- all of which were lawful, if not edifying. Then she appeared at Sharon's bedside with the cellphone. Oh! one thing we had forgotten. Good thing she likes to bring the contraband to us. But everything else -- computer, camera, stereo, insulin -- all remained out of reach.
Then Sharon heard snapping. She sat up in bed. "Flannery, bring it to Mama." The little trinitarian stomped into our bedroom carrying Sharon's glasses in not one, not two, but three pieces. Sharp inhalation. So much for catching a few more winks. I set to work at the coffee table with the glasses and an eyeglass screwdriver. Doodle had bent the frames to get one lens out, and I applied a ginger touch to bend it back in place, when the temple snapped off.
So, although she didn't technically get them to the point of no return, I think it safe to say that Flannery broke her first expensive thing. Off to Shopko for new glasses, to the tune of 150 clams. Yes, we paid in clams, which are legal tender in the State of Washington. But first, we had to buy the clams -- but that's another story, and Sharon wants to tell it herself sometime.
So, we got back home, and it was lunchtime. Sharon gave the little one lunch, while I set to frying a pair of Nathan's hot dogs -- the original and still the best. Sharon's head hurt from all the clam-shucking, and she went and lay down. Flannery, meanwhile, was covered in ketchup, and was requesting that I get her out of her seat. She stood up in her chair, and I wiped her grubby little mitts with a rag. I turned my back for one second, in which time I heard a thud. Flannery had fallen face-first onto the linoleum floor, and was shrieking. Her lip and nose flowed with blood, and she refused to be comforted for quite some time. Uncle Gabriel came over and checked her out, good EMT that he is, and we determined that she didn't require hospitalization or any such thing, but also that she needed watching, forehead hitting the floor and all.
So, she napped on Mama, and afterwards she was as wierd and goofy as every. She woke both of us up from our midsummer afternoon naps, and she availed herself of every opportunity to harass my toes. So, all you worrying grandparents out there, don't worry, she's fine. But she did say "Send money to Mama and Papa." And it was sooooo cute when she said it.
Thus the day; though it is also to be noted that for supper, she took handfuls of guacamole and squeezed it through her fingers, licking it out of her knuckles. Delicious.
Today, Sharon and I realized that what we have might be called the "emergency-fund kid" -- the tow-headed little dandelion who hasn't grown up, but is getting bigger, and whose various vaporous endeavors are cleaned up by the family emergency fund.
It began when Sharon and I, trying to get a few more minutes sleep, unleashed her on the house unsupervised, thinking that all valuable and breakable items had been put up safely out of her reach. We heard various sounds -- wipes being pulled from the container, books coming off her shelf, her dresser drawers opening -- all of which were lawful, if not edifying. Then she appeared at Sharon's bedside with the cellphone. Oh! one thing we had forgotten. Good thing she likes to bring the contraband to us. But everything else -- computer, camera, stereo, insulin -- all remained out of reach.
Then Sharon heard snapping. She sat up in bed. "Flannery, bring it to Mama." The little trinitarian stomped into our bedroom carrying Sharon's glasses in not one, not two, but three pieces. Sharp inhalation. So much for catching a few more winks. I set to work at the coffee table with the glasses and an eyeglass screwdriver. Doodle had bent the frames to get one lens out, and I applied a ginger touch to bend it back in place, when the temple snapped off.
So, although she didn't technically get them to the point of no return, I think it safe to say that Flannery broke her first expensive thing. Off to Shopko for new glasses, to the tune of 150 clams. Yes, we paid in clams, which are legal tender in the State of Washington. But first, we had to buy the clams -- but that's another story, and Sharon wants to tell it herself sometime.
So, we got back home, and it was lunchtime. Sharon gave the little one lunch, while I set to frying a pair of Nathan's hot dogs -- the original and still the best. Sharon's head hurt from all the clam-shucking, and she went and lay down. Flannery, meanwhile, was covered in ketchup, and was requesting that I get her out of her seat. She stood up in her chair, and I wiped her grubby little mitts with a rag. I turned my back for one second, in which time I heard a thud. Flannery had fallen face-first onto the linoleum floor, and was shrieking. Her lip and nose flowed with blood, and she refused to be comforted for quite some time. Uncle Gabriel came over and checked her out, good EMT that he is, and we determined that she didn't require hospitalization or any such thing, but also that she needed watching, forehead hitting the floor and all.
So, she napped on Mama, and afterwards she was as wierd and goofy as every. She woke both of us up from our midsummer afternoon naps, and she availed herself of every opportunity to harass my toes. So, all you worrying grandparents out there, don't worry, she's fine. But she did say "Send money to Mama and Papa." And it was sooooo cute when she said it.
Thus the day; though it is also to be noted that for supper, she took handfuls of guacamole and squeezed it through her fingers, licking it out of her knuckles. Delicious.