What Are You?

Sometimes an early morning conversation sets the tone for the whole day.
Such was the case today.

Itty Bitty and I were sitting on my front steps waiting for the school bus.  She always has random thoughts in her little noggin.  Out of no where she tells me she heard pop music last night.  They (her family) weren't playing pop music, she heard it in the Village of Quantico. I feel my heart fluttering.  "Village".  What a descriptive word.  My mind immediately went to a cobblestone setting.

She proceeds to tell me she used to be a Townsman, but now she's a Villager.  Mommy, Effan, Rease, Helena and Annalynne are also Villagers. Mom-Mom, Pop-Pop, Ben,  Mr. Paul, Miss Carrwy,  Rease and Helena are Townsmen.  Well, she says, Rease and Helena are Villagers and Townsmen because they live there (little hand swings right) and here (other little hand swings left).  I can hardly stand it.  Of course MY imagination has little pointy caps or flat little beanies on everyone's head.

She then proceeds to tell me that maybe she's a Villager and a Townsman if her daddy lives in a town. And she thinks for a second and concludes that she's could be considered a Farmer too since Granny Bell lives on a farm.   Be still my heart. 

I put my Little Villager on the bus here in Town, waved goodbye and came in to ponder this morning's chat.  I knew I had to record this one for posterity.  I don't want to forget.  Ever.

But on a sad note, my Little Villager arrived back in Town after school with her jacket on.  It was only a gazillion degrees outside.  I don't say anything, but the minute she gets inside she wants me to take her temperature.  She's been coughing all day she says. I test her forehead, it's warm and her cheeks are flushed, so  I oblige her after she removes her shoes, visits the Little Girl's Room and washes her hands.  That gal had a temp of 101.4!  I asked if she had been cold or chilly today.  No, says she.  I had my jacket on.   Alrighty then.

I'm not sure she will ever know the imprint she's leaving on my heart.  The innocence of a child is the most refreshing thing you will ever experience.  I try not to change one bit of  her.  I love the way God made her.  In fact, I love the way God made all my family.  He knew them and formed them and I'm thrilled He did!

The Truck

Sometimes. . . . . . .

We have a thing here where we try to wave goodbye to family and friends as they leave.  Most of the time we make it.  However, this morning, we missed waving to the Boy.  Ittty Bitty, Turtle Dove and I were standing at the door waving goodbye to their Mommy.  I made the comment that we had missed the Boy this morning.  Itty Bitty said:  "He drove his truck."  Not sure if that was justification for missing him or not.  But, she continues on:

Ittty:  "He won't let me drive his truck." 
Me:  "Oh, yea?  He won't let me either."
Itty:  "He'll let Rease drive it."

Pause ~ thinking. . . . .(never a good sign)

Itty:  "He won't let me."
Me:  "Well, you're too little to drive  his truck."
Itty:  "Well, you're too old!" 
Me:  "I'm not too old!"
Itty:  "I can drive it.  I drive Annalynne's all around."

If she doesn't stop telling me I'm O.L.D., I think I may start believing it!  Maybe I'll even act it!
Now let's just move on to normal, everyday things like, I don't know, singing?

Not Much Time

The Little Itty Bitty Girl is obsessed with the fact that I am old 62.  She reminds me often that I'm almost 100.  Often.  Yesterday was no different, but she threw a stick in my spokes  before reminding of that fact ~ again.

She was home with me "recovering" from a little stomach bug.  Nothing good was on TV and I only let her play her Kindle for so long.  Out of boredom she did her spelling assignment on the computer using Spelling City.  I figured it would keep her up to par and she wouldn't have a lot of make-up work to do.  After that we perused  Netflix for a movie.  She loves the Tinker Bell movies and settled on "Tinker and the Neverbeast".  Apparently this "beast" was testy, then friendly, then not so nice.  The woodland fairy that befriended him in the beginning fell victim to his fury.  I'm not sure she really "died" or what.  I just know it was sad and she wasn't moving.  And then something happened (I missed that part) and she was moving again. 

This prompted Itty Bitty to ask me if dying was like sleeping.  I said,  a very deep sleep, I guess you could say.  She said "Yea, that's what I was thinking.".  I told her though, that the soul leaves the body.  She said she knew that.  (alrighty then).  Then came the kicker. The stick in the spokes that brought me to a halt.  She nonchalantly told me: "You don't have much time."  What? What do you mean?  (I knew where this was going).   "You're old." she says.  "You don't have much time left. You're almost 100."

Knock me over with a feather.  I've had the "almost 100" conversation with her before, but not the "not much time" one.  That was unexpected to say the least. Un-nerving.

That's it!  No more deep conversations with this girl!   Not any time soon, anyway.

Spray and Scary Things

Yesterday I re-brushed Itty Bitty's hair.  It was a hot mess, so her Mama asked me to re-do it before I sent her off to school.  I brushed it and pulled it up in a pony tail.  She has these little baby hairs that float around her face and are only cute for a minute before they become a full blown nuisance. I sent her up to grab the hair spray so I could tame her locks.  We make sure to cover eyes and her face when I spray.  When I was done I sent her back with the hair spray.  She came down and promptly asked me:

P:  "What happens if you get hair spray in your eyes?"
Me: "It would probably sting your eyes.  I think it has alcohol in it.  That's why we cover your eyes."
P:  "But what would happen?"
Me:  "Probably burn."
P:  "Would it make your eyes stick open?" 
Me:  (didn't see that coming).  "No, but it could make your eyelashes stiff, I suppose."


Itty Bitty's conversation on the 8th of August.

So it goes:
P:  " I cried yesterday."
Me:  "Why?"
P:   "Efan told me I would never see you again.  You got a new job."
Me:  Puzzeled
P:  "He said you got a job with the jury."
Me:  Thinking: "I knew this 'jury thing' was no good"

All because she wouldn't eat her dinner.  She's such a pokey little thing.
I told her she had to eat, otherwise she wouldn't grow up strong and pretty.

A little bit later she came to me and told me Efan (Mr. Beefy) was scared of the ghost of Jimmy Johnson.  I'm not sure where my mind may have traveled on this one. 
So it goes:

P:  "Efan's afraid of the Ghost of Jimmy Johnson."
Me:  Puzzled (again)
P:  "He said Jimmy Johnson wouldn't eat his dinner and he starved to death.  He died.  And Efan's afraid of him.  He has a sister, Jenny Johnson.  She didn't die.  She ate her food."
Me:  *in my head - alrighty then.
Me:  "Well, there you go.  Eat your food, lest you wind up like Jimmy Johnson."

Later at lunch I heard her making ghost sounds while she was eating. 

Mama said there'd be days like these.  Yep, she did.

Old and Weak

They say:  "Out of the mouths of babes."  That's what they say.  Who ~ who invented that statement?  Just curious.

All the local grandies, some nieces and nephews, and kidlings in our lives by association met here Saturday night to go Trick-or-treating.

Bob, aka, Pop-pop went with the younger hooligans and their parents to gather the bounty of the night, aka, candy. 

The older hooligans stayed behind to hand out bounty to the tricksters.
I stayed behind to monitor the older hooligans.  I actually monitored them from across the street.  I opted to chat with my front door neighbor as she handed out loot for said tricksters.  I think I watched my hooligans eat half the bounty they were to distribute.  Not sure, but they sure were chatty!  I'm thinking:  Sugar Rush?

Allotted time slot for perusing the avenues was from 6:00PM to 8:00 PM.  Then at 8:00PM the hooligans and all other tricksters headed for the fire hall to parade their creative attire, get refreshments and try to guess the weight of pumpkins. 

Goldilocks came in 2nd for pumpkin' guessin'.

Itty Bitty came in second for her costume.

Itty Bitty.  She follows closely in Goldilocks's shoes, which brings us to topic at hand.  "Old and Weak".

Bob said Itty Bitty seemed to be slowing down as they were perusing the avenues.  He offered to carry her bag.  She politely declined stating:  "That's ok.  You're old and weak.  You're not as old as Mom-mom, but she is weak too."  I just really have no words.  

I thought of that statement this morning when I tried to open the window over the kitchen sink. I couldn't get it up very far.  It gets all cock-eyed in there and won't go up smoothly.  It had me wondering for a moment if I was as weak as she perceived me to be (however that is).  Didn't feel old, but I did feel weak ~ just for a moment mind you ~ just for a moment.

Old and weak.  A combination of "state of mind" and "state of being".  You are as old and weak as you allow yourself to be.  That's my point and I'm sticking to it!

A "Sticky" Situation

My Mama always told me to be careful what you wish for.

I got a call last night from a distraught young lady.  She had been on her hubby's case for some time to put his dirty laundry in the hamper with the rest of the family's or it wouldn't get washed.  And IF it didn't get washed, then by George, he would have to take care of that task himself.  

Like I said ~ be careful what you wish for

Hubs must have needed some clothes and Wife had held to her "guns".  So Hubs decided to tackle his laundry himself.  God bless him.

Wife went to get something out of the dryer ~ to which Hubs had added his wet laundry after washing without removing the dry clothes already nestled in there ~ and . . . she pulled out sticky clothes.  Kind of like "bubble gum sticky", but not quite.

Be careful what you wish for

I'm thinking when Hubs brought his dirties down, he threw them in the laundry room floor to get the washer ready.  Then he just tossed them in the dryer (on top the already fluffy dry things that were in there) and let 'er go!  Apparently a sticky mouse pad found its way onto a pair of jeans before they landed in the washer and was then transported via wet jeans to the dryer (on top of Wife's laundry) and the heat from the dryer released the sticky goo all over EVERYBODY's clothes! His accomplishment was the bane of her sanity!  (I would like to have been a fly on that wall!)

Be careful what you wish for.

Seems to me I would rather snag a pair of pants from the floor rather than let a novice laundryman have at my washer.  Just sayin'. . . . .


On a side note:

Today at lunch Itty Bitty, Ben and I were talking about age.  Don't ask ~ don't know.  All was well until this conversation (if you want to call it that):

Itty Bitty ~ to me:  "You are past old.
Me:  "What does that mean?"  (One would think I would have learned my lesson by now.  Never ask if your really don't want to know)
Itty Bitty:  "It means you are probably older than you think."

Hm.  I'm sure that could go either way.  I think I'm young, but obviously I'm not ~ OR ~ I think I'm old which means I could kick the bucket any day now. 
It doesn't help that Ben is choking on his food at that conversation.  Nope.  Not at all.

Thank you, Itty Bitty, for those Words of Wisdom.

Fairies

A few months back Piper got a "Fairy house" in one of her Highlights magazines.  We cut it out and put it together with the help of a little glue and tape.   She hung it on my fireplace screen and  waited patiently for a Fairy to appear. (It's been hanging here for quite some time.)  I told her Fairies only come out after dark, when she's in bed.  Even though she didn't like it, she accepted it.

Piper's Fairy House

Today she was playing around with it and this is somewhat how the conversation went:

Me:  Mopping floor
Piper:  Playing with her Fairy house.
Me:  Listening to her chatter.
Piper:  "Mom-mom, I need some bait."
Me:  "What kind of bait?"
Piper:  "Fairy bait."
Me:  "What would that be?"
Piper:  "A tooth."

Alrighty then. 

So, me, being a very quick and bright Mom-mom, sent her to Uncle Ben to ask for bait, telling her to tell him what she needed it for.  Little did I know she had already been to him asking for bait and he, being all knowing, was the one who suggested she use teeth. He said she politely told him, "Well, you've got teeth."  "So do you." he says to her.  This must have been the "chatter" I heard and where I came into the conversation.  And since neither of them were willing to give up their teeth, she resorted to me ~ the problem solver ~ only I couldn't solve this one! She had gone full circle with no resolve.  She hung the little house back in its rightful spot and moved on.

She already has her little treasure box for her teeth for when the Tooth Fairy does come ~ which, given today's conversation, makes me worry that there may be premature tooth loss.  That, or, Helena or Zoe's lost teeth will become just that, L. O. S. T. Lost to the Fairy house for bait.  And they would be none the wiser.