Lately, our (I usually say my, but hey I am married) daughter has been going through a sensitive phase. Everything is ‘scawy’ until mommy proves it isn’t. Heck, I guess I’m useful for something, right? The other day, it was a shadow on the wall. Until I proved to her it was the potted plant and then she started wiggling the plant to watch the shadow move. Whatever floats her boat. Yesterday Matt (Matthew, the hubby, hubs) cut through some wildflowers testing out the weedeater. I’m staring at him, hands out to the side in a ‘what the heck’ gesture, figuring, you know, he COULD have left them alone seeing as they were still blooming, until Keeley sees me… and starts crying. So even though I’m disappointed that he cut them down, I’m patting the head of a whimpering 2 year old, because ‘daddy cut down the flowers’. God almighty, preserve us and save us from this ship that keeps running ashore.
She has no problem ‘dunking’ a basketball, playing in the dirt, or watching bugs, but for the love of the heavens, do NOT cut down the wildflowers.. it’s the end of the world, you know.