Charlyn’s Web

Now honestly, see if don’t you think it would be pretty hard to be upset with this otter:

(Click thumbnail to see full-sized photo)

Col. Panic leaps out of bed each morning (not really but it sounds good) leaving me to rock in the waves of his departure. He enters the bathroom and shuts the door. I am prepared to quickly drop back to sleep. Sleep is important to me.

Then I hear it. The barely perceptable sound of feet on the carpet and the sounds of the bathroom door being opened.

“Hello Papa!” yells a little voice.

Groan.

Usually, I can go back to sleep, lulled by the sound of the shower but now my sleep is disturbed by an Otter singing.

Loudly.

Or talking.

Loudly.

Or laughing.

You get the point.

Then they emerge from the bathroom and she proceeds to help him pick out what he is going to wear that day. Sometimes she whispers.

Then they leave the bedroom and I am left in relative quiet, except for the occasional sound floating down the hallway. Then… they return!

One is inexcusably happy, cheery, even bright.

Disgusting. A Morning Otter.

Morning people. They are so…so….so peppy! How could this child be mine? And an Otter too? (here you thought she was a chipmunk). Otters are fun loving- as in not serious people. They laugh at many things. Apparently, they like MORNINGS and getting up early.

Groan. I don’t know where she got it. Not from me! It’s all the Col.’s fault.

Usually is anyway.

What 4 year old goes to McDonalds and wants a salad?

And what 3 year old gets chicken nuggets and then eats most of her Mother’s salad?

I don’t think it has to do with marketing or wrappers– they like salad. I’m surprised they like it over the other things they could get there though.

But I’m not complaining!

HP has discovered the joys of swatting flies. He will get the fly swatter and go a swatting. I will not fill you in on the running commentary that flows forth as he is engaged in this activity. It’s best this way, trust me.

He decided the other day that we should leave our door open, rigged up with a screen with holes just big enough for flies to get through. When the house was full of flies we would then shut the door and put him to work with the swatter.

Then comes the kicker: I could pay him for each fly he kills.

Somehow I just don’t see the benefit for me in this scheme.

“I can’t stretch out! It’s uncomfortable!”

I couldn’t muster up sympathy for the Oh So Clever Brained One who decided that he would rather sleep on the metal slats of his bunk-bed instead of on his mattress. The mattress was pushed aside leaving a small wedge of space between it and the wall for him to sleep. There he was, all jammed in, with his pillow and blanket quite pleased with himself.

Oh woe. Oh agony.

Oh to be young and lame brained.

Our Chipmunk is a cute little thing. She comes and eats with us but not as often as she used to, once upon a time. This isn’t your normal Chipmunk who carries nuts and seeds around in her cheek to hide away somewhere for winter eating. No, this Chipmunk stuffs meat or carrots into her cheek and it’s not for winter chow time.

I try to help things out by cutting the meat really small but instead of chewing and swallowing one bite at a time; she stuffs all the small pieces into her cheek at once. Then chews. And chews. Chews some more. No swallowing though. This can go on for ages.

“Please finish your dinner.”

Chewchewchewchewchew….chew…chew.

Chew.

Chew.

“Stop chewing and SWALLOW it!”

Chewchewchew….chew…..

The cheek is sticking out about an inch. She’ll just sit there with the enormous wad in her mouth, chewing once in awhile.

“Try drinking some water and swishing it around in your mouth to wash it down.”

Chewchew- well, you get the point.

There have been times ***Gross out warning! Read at your own risk*** when we have given up on her and had her spit it out and she eats it for breakfast. Sounds harsh (and disgusting) but it doesn’t seem to bother her.

Like I said earlier, she doesn’t do it so much anymore- thank goodness! I don’t know what causes it- what would turn our lovely KJ into a chipmunk?

TG came upstairs at my parents’ with her socks and shoes for me to put on so she could go into the woods. Being the wise and insightful parent (don’t laugh) I asked:

“Who are you going with into the woods ?”

“The woods!” She answers.

O.K. Try this again-

“Yes, the woods. WHO is going with you?”

“THE WOODS!” She forcefully says.

One more time.

“I understand you want to go into the woods- who all is going?”

“THE WOODS!!!” she yells.

She is thinking: My mother doesn’t listen! I have told her THREE times what I’m doing!

I’m thinking: Pronoun trouble.

On the way to church KJ was singing a song of her own making. I tuned in long enough to hear this line warbled:

“My mind is goooone!”

Join the club. I didn’t think it would happen so young.

A, B, C, D, E, F, G, H, I, J, K, LEMON, O, P……

HP has had a continual fascination with airplanes and farming. When he was very young it was all things that had motors then morphed into a fascination with trains. Then, someone gave him his first airplane and that was the end of the story- or the beginning. He had those little dye-cast airplanes surgically attached to his hands. I had to limit the number we took with us on shopping trips or we would have had the whole fleet along.

Then, it was time for the tractors to be working the fields and his attention shifted. Farming was the thing. Tractors and farm “implements” were the fascination of the day. As the summer turned to fall we began to wonder where his attention would fall next. At Christmas he received some planes as gifts and we were back flying again!

So it has gone for the last few years. Spring/summer rolls around and out comes the farm equipment, fall arrives and the planes come out. The fascination for both seems to be waning some though. But I think planes still hold the strongest.

The heavy decision of a seven year old- should he be a pilot or a farmer? At one point he decided that he would farm in the summer and fly in the winter.

He’ll probably end up being a spray pilot.