Hold Still and I Will Staple Your Ears Back On

1. I was cleaning cleaning cleaning today. We are going out of town this weekend, and I have discovered that the post-vacation bummer is slightly lessened by returning to a spotless house. A clean house makes your return to the mundane a little harder to hate.

Franny whooshed around after me, and offered to help me clean.

“Okay,” I said. “But I need really good listening ears. You have not been the greatest listener this week.”

“I promise I will listen, Mom.”

“Well, I think I will teach you how to scrub the toilet first,” I said.

“YAY! I get to scrub the TOILET!” Franny said.

Later, I was getting ready to sweep the dust bunnies out of the bedrooms, so I asked her to move stuff off the floor, like the laundry hamper and a couple of Strudel’s toys.

“But don’t move the little rugs,” I finished, “because I’ll vacuum them.”

“Okay, Mom.”

As she went in to the room I could see her pause. The look on her face said What did that lady say?

“What did you say to move, Mom?”

“Everything BUT the rugs.”

A couple of minutes later I peeked in and saw her moving the rugs around.

“What are you doing?” I asked uselessly. I could see what she was doing.

“Moving the rugs,” Franny replied, with a hint of, “Duh, Mom.”

“You know what? I think I will clean by myself today.”

If I said to her, “Don’t go near the edge of that cliff over there,” she’d run towards it going, “What cliff? I don’t see a…AAAAAAAAAHHH!” What a space monkey. It’s like living with her dad all over again, only she has a prayer of growing out of it. It’s probably a good thing we are not visiting the Swiss Alps or a place with shark-infested waters this weekend. “What sharks? AAAAAH!!!”

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Two Plus Two Equals, “Have Some Protein, You’ll Feel Better.”

This weekend, Supa was visiting Seattle and graciously included me and Franny in her weekend plans. We decided to take all our girlies to the Zoo for Memorial Day.

As we walked past the penguin prison, Franny noticed a chubby boy about her age, who was gleefully narfling a whole bag of Cheetos by himself.

“Ohh,” Franny said, totally unprompted. She dropped her voice to a whisper. “Mom, that boy is eating a lot of Cheetos. That’s not good for you.”

“No, it’s not,” I agreed. “I wonder why his parents would let him do that?”

“I think too many Cheetos will make you feel bad. They have chemicals,” she added.

Supa, fellow food nazi, came close and high-fived me. “Good job, Dude.”

“Yes, brainwashing complete,” I joked.

Supa’s oldest daughter had a puzzled look on her face. “Mom,” she said to Supa, “what are Cheetos?”

“Okay, you win at life,” I said to Supa.

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1. At Dinner

“Franny, if you don’t finish your dinner we can’t go for a walk,” I said.

“This sauce is bad,” she replied.

“Eat up, because I’m afraid you’re going to grow old and die at the table.”

“Penis, penis, penis…I have PENISES coming out of my EYES!” she sang.

“Don’t change the subject,” I said.

“Penises,” she murmured softly to her salad. “Eyes.”

2. Sex Ed Pays Off

That Poor Woman and I were discussing Franny’s grasp of human reproduction.

“When I was pregnant, she knew where my stomach was, and where my uterus was. I think she knows more than some of my friends,” That Poor Woman said, as she nursed Franny’s sister.

“We were reading What’s the Big Secret? a lot when I was pregnant,” I said. “It marches you through the whole thing…gender differences, sexual reproduction, what happens during childbirth. She wanted to pull it out again when you were about to deliver.”

“At one point,” That Poor Woman said, “I was really tired and I said I was uncomfortable. Franny said, ‘I guess you shouldn’t have had sex then.”

“Ouch.” I laughed uncomfortably.

“Well, she’s right, you know,” she said.

3. Franny Has a Visitor

Last weekend, Franny had a friend spend the night. It was the first time she has hosted a sleepover at our new house.

“Okay, girls,” I said, as I was about to close the door. “Please wake me up if you’re having an emergency, like a bloody nose, or someone gets sick or hurt.”

“Okay,” they said.

“Goodnight.”

The next morning at six-fifty, ten minutes before Strudel wakes up, I heard a creeping on the stairs, and whispering. Uh-oh, I thought. The door popped open and I could see two little kindergartener heads peering in at Companion and I, who were trying to have a restful Sunday morning.

“Mom?” She and her friend peered in at us.

“What’s wrong?” Franny looked okay at first glance.

“I feel crappy,” she said.

“You feel crappy? You came up here to tell me you feel CRAPPY?”

“Yeah….”

“Go downstairs and have a glass of water.” And I will try not to hang you by your toes, I did not add. “I’ll be down in a little bit.”

I came down eventually, but first Franny and I had a little conference in the bathroom about what constitutes an emergency.

Eh. Privacy’s for suckers, am I right? AM I RIGHT?