Bees and Egg Arms and God Bless

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Things change whether we like them or not. Like this whole “falling back” time change thing. It’s about as useful as tits on a boar hog and no one can convince me it should still be happening. Hats off to you Arizona for refusing to participate, you little rebel you.

Some changes are for the better. Like the fact that Jane is potty trained. I do a selfie high five every month when I don’t have to buy diapers. Other changes are more disconcerting, like the fact that now Jane insists on saying the following prayer every night:

God is great, God is good, let us thank him for our food. Amen. God bless.

And that’s it. Obviously there is zero food involved at bedtime. Long gone are the sweet little girl prayers where she rambled about her dolls and grandparents and her new Princess potty lid. Nope. Now it’s food related, straight to the point, and spoken in the exact tone and timber as the little boy Tony who lived in Danny’s mouth a’la The Shining. I really wish I was joking about that.

But with all these changes I find myself waking up early in the morning, even before my alarm goes off, and my brain is racing. It’s racing with the thousand things I need to do every day, at home, at work, in my car, on the phone. So this morning I was doing just that, laying on my back, dreading pulling back the covers and greeting the cold morning air with my prickly legs. Remember no-shave November? I submit that women need an equal seat that that hairy mess of a table.

Anyway, so I’m laying there and clear as a bell, Jane speaks out from her room.

Let me preface this by reminding you that Jane is a sleep talker. She’s always been one, and it’s provided me with hours of hilarity, and sleeplessness of my own. It’s hard to fall back asleep after your toddler yells out, “There’s a fire in my hair and eggs on my arms!” Because no matter how much of a rational human being you think you are, you WILL run in there and thoroughly examine their arms.

So this morning, clear as a little crystal bell, she calls out from her room, “There’s bees in Prince Charming’s carriage, but I’ll dance around them and they won’t kiss my bottom.”

She enunciated these words with seriousness, confidence, clarity, and just a hint of the sinister, not unlike Hilary Clinton addressing the UN. I completely lost my marbles. I was laughing and snorting, and grabbing for my phone so I could get the sentence down for posterity. I forgot how tired I was. I forgot about how much I had to get done. I forgot about the cold, wet weather blanketing our town.

And I realized that among all the changes in my life, she’s far and above the very, very, very best one. My little sleep talker who gets taller every day, who uses a horror movie voice to say her prayers, who asks “can I have two hugs and two kisses” when I drop her off at school, and who dreams about bees and eggs and bottoms and Prince Charming’s pimped out ride. She’s the very best change that ever happened.

Amen.

God bless.

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11 Comments

  1. Bridget says:

    I take the whole no shave November thing straight to the next day that is warm enough for shorts. It is an energy saving thing. right?

    Like

  2. Melissa says:

    I started “no-shave” in September! Ain’t nobody got time fo dat! Lol. But more seriously, I’ve been reading for awhile (2ish or so years?) but have never commented…am so happy to that you’re doing well and are standing up for your own happiness.

    Like

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