This is why mamas come with spidey senses.

The girls have been really good about going outside and playing while I make dinner. Before they were pretty iffy. Most nights they’d ask to go outside and play, some nights I’d be mean and make them start on homework right away, and then there were those night when they’d whine and beg to watch TV or play on the computer. But apparently when you throw an adorable dog into the mix, the only possible answer is playing outside and teaching the puppy new tricks ALL OF THE TIMES!

Wednesday night the girls were trying to teach Fen to hunt. Which, okay. I think the only thing Fen would be good at hunting  would be snacks. Or maybe cats. But the girls were sharing their butterfly net and prancing around the yard, asking Fen to help them find ladybugs and butterflies and frogs and snakes and stuff. You know – the things childhood dreams are made of. Either the girls are lucky, or I’m not giving Fen enough credit, because I heard Bee yelling to Gracie, “HEY! I have a green grasshopper!” There was more excited chatter, but I was busy cooking and cleaning and cramming all of the housework into the guaranteed kid-free time as I could.

And then.

A few minutes later, Bee opened the door, looked at me like she had been yelled at, and started slinking towards her room. “Freeze,” I called out. Oh, she was totally busted. Because something wasn’t quite right. “Whatcha doing?” I asked.

“Nothing. I just want to go to my room for a minute,” she answered, oh so meekly.

“Why?” I quizzed. I have almost a decade of mommying experience, and nearly eight with this particular model. I know when things aren’t humming along.

“I just want to be in there for a few minutes,” Bee answered, looking sideways at me.

Uh huh. I noticed her left hand was tightly closed. “What’s in your hand?” I asked her.

Bee’s shoulders sagged, as if all of the life worth living had leaked out of her shoes. “A grasshopper,” she monotoned. I think she knew were this was going.

“You can’t keep a grasshopper in your room!” I told her, somehow keeping the laughter and exasperation (…um, okay, maybe not all of the exasperation, but it was amused exasperation) out of my voice.

“But I want it as a pet!” she defended.

Right then I decided nothing good comes from reading to your childrens. Read them A Cricket in Times Square, and pretty soon they’re thinking all the thinks, and blurring the much-needed lines between fiction and realities-mama-can-live-with.

I turned Miss Bee around, scooted her out the door, and told her that her pet grasshopper would have to live outside. Sadly, we were a one pet household and we had Fen. Good think that dog is so darned lovable.

And the kid, too.

Grasshopper

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One Response to “This is why mamas come with spidey senses.”

  1. Kathy Says:

    That gave me a giggle. Good thing you have Fen.

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