Reason #57: Calling a Kid By the Dog's Name

-
But my thoughts ran a wool-gathering; and I did like 
the countryman, who looked for his ass while 
he was mounted on his back. —Cervantes

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I always laughed at my dad when he called one of us by the wrong name.  Even this weekend, I am sure he called me by my sister's name at least a half a dozen times.  I just answer to it anymore, knowing he's talking to me.  Who knew I would be plagued by the same problem as an adult. 

The story is short and simple and goes a bit like this.  Malea has been very precocious this week.  I think daycare is in for a BIG surprise next week.  For two days now I feel all I've said is "No Malea."  "Malea, no-no."  "NO." 

Malea has taken to opening my cabinet in the kitchen with the pots and pans and spreading them about the house.  Worst of all, she's sneaky about it too.  I came into the kitchen tonight and nearly plowed her over as she was carrying a saucepan into the living room.  After having put my pans back in their place all week, I attempted to use one of my "No" statements but when trying to call her by name I first called her by, of all things, the dog's name, Sadie.  I then attempted to correct myself and called her Maddie.  At the third attempt, you'd swear I'd forgotten her name.

Perhaps the best part was Maddie was standing there the whole time and in her nicest, 6-year-old, know-it-all voice said, "Mom, her name is Malea."

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Letters

-
Image
When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight.  ~ Kahlil Gibran ------------------------------------------ Well, here it comes folks. The blog that will either keep you reading or destroy whatever relationship we've been having.  Either way, what I write here is mine.  I made absolutely no claim at perfection, although you really should have known that already by the title of this blog.  While this was difficult to write and took quite a bit of reflection, again, it is truly my own.  After days of pondering and writing, daughter of the year #1 gave me a big sign tonight that I was finally ready to post this.  Dad of the year suffered a loss in his family recently and, in my mind, the worst kind.  The one that creeps up on you and surprises you with grief you didn't think you would have.  Or should I say, grief you didn't think you would need to work th...
Read more

The Devil's Instrument

-
Image
Music is what feelings sound like.  ~ Author Unknown ---------------------------- I knew this day would come.  In fact, I hoped it would.  But never, ever, did I think it would try my patience like it has. Growing up, music was like air to me.  I needed it daily and as my relationship with it grew, it became something very important to me. I nearly made it a career until I grew unsure how I would actually accomplish that.  My mom will tell you all about the scholarship I turned down as a result, just ask her. In the end, it was a love but, for me, it was never a career.   Daughter of the year #1 has been taking piano lessons for 3 years.  There were times it tested me but that mainly came from frustrated bangs on the keys and hearing Jolly Old Saint Nicholas clear into the month of March.  Who knew my ultimate test of patience would come with a 12 inch piece of plastic with holes.   Ah, the blessed rec...
Read more

Notebooks

-
Image
Drench yourself in words unspoken. Live your life with arms wide open.   Today is, where your book begins.   The rest is still unwritten.   -Natasha Bedingfield I've sat down to write so many times I've lost track.  I get started then stop.  Something was always missing. Wittiness. A lesson. Humor. An ending that made sense.  Something!  I would always leave that writing for another day.  Another day never came.  Time after time, I'd go back to it, then scrap it and start over.   Starting over.  What a funny notion.  An empty piece of paper, a blank slate, always clean and new.  Always. I mean, who would argue the best part of school starting was new notebooks.  No writing or markings, just waiting for fresh knowledge.  Ok, so I still love a new notebook.   Losing someone you care for always makes you reflect on things, on your own notebooks of time; your blank pie...
Read more