I knew this day was coming. The day when I’d have to vie for my space in the bathroom. The day of crowded sink tops and competing for mirror time. The day when my make-up would be unceremoniously knocked onto the floor or into the garbage or treated like toys, just to be batted about. The day when my hairbrush and curling iron would be tackled to the ground. The day when I’d have to push someone out of the way just to wash my hands in the sink or kick them off the throne. It took me ages to find my glasses the other day because they were knocked down behind the garbage (I know, I know, I should have put them away better). My favorite lipstick was carried to unknown territory and I couldn’t find it for weeks.
My bathroom is becoming a war zone!!
I have three girls – three who will be all teenagers in just a few short years – so I knew this day would be coming.
I just didn’t expect it
And I didn’t expect it to be my
So, the other day I was heading to the music store to get Elizabeth and Dorothy’s music books for band. There had been a lot of talk of instruments lately as we had managed to track down the flute for Liz and the trumpet for Dot, and Emily had asked once or twice about a violin – though we explained she wouldn’t be starting for a little while yet. So it was only mildly surprising when Jacob, hearing that I was heading to the music store, came tearing into my room. “Mom, are you getting my drum?”
I think there is a budding percussionist in the family. After all, he was the one that before he could even walk would arrange all our rhythm instruments and toy drums in a semi circle around him and play away.
We let our cat, Spitfire, roam around outside frequently, though we always bring her in at night. Because of Murdoch and her not getting along too well yet – she’s a conniving little thing and constantly baits him – she spends the night in the basement. Well, the other day she had gotten in a cat fight and had a bloody lip when we brought her in from outside. The next morning Jacob, after seeing the cat for the first time, came running to our room.
“Mom, Dad, there’s a monster in our basement, cause it tried to eat spitfire, and Spitfire still has blood on her lip, and the monster is in the basement, and you need to come and get the monster.”
After trying not to guffaw with laughter we explained that she was not attacked by a monster in the basement and the basement is perfectly safe. I love imagination!