In Which We Do Not Walk On the Floor

We have the most awesome housekeeper in the world. She goes to great lengths to work around everyone so that their normal everyday lives aren't interrupted (when we have a "normal, everday life" I'll be the first to know, right??!?).

I know, you laugh. Go ahead!

It's laughable.

Mostly the "normal" part. Then the fact that any normal activity might be repeated. Even more laughable.

Actually, whats laughable is that after 25 years of working with my grandparents and now here, she doesn't consider that SHE might be the most normal part of our normal routine!! She gives me a wealth of advice about the boys and about my life. She loves me and I hope that she knows I love her. What I love most about her is her laughter. And there is much to laugh about here.

My now 4-yr-old lives in absolute terror of the vacuum cleaner. Which, when Beulah comes, leads to an absolute terror of the floor.

All of it.

So, go into your living room, get comfy for the afternoon with your young kiddos. Gloat in your momentary freedom from daft seismic projects and enjoy one recliner while SqB bounces all over the other. Then, in comes Beaulah and the 4-yr-old levitates. In the chair, but levitates as you can see his brain working over the ENTIRE next four hours and all the problems presented by the running of the vacuum and the consequential off-limits nature of the floor.

His current solution is death by Thomas the Tank Engine. This could last another hour-and-a-half. Does this require my conscience (in any form...the hamster wheel one mostly, not the moral one)? When are they going to make flesh-toned iPod earphones for the masses...I have new downloads I could be listening to! I can tell by looking at him when he needs me. Don't even get me started on how this affects our toilet training adventures.

Is it just me or is it coincident that ALL the remaining adults (including one who is on oxygen and lives largely as an invalid) have vacated the premises? Is the floor truly THAT scary?

This again does not speak so highly of me and the tete-e-tete that exists at times between Squash Blossom and I.

5:00 pm.

Four hours since our little conference began here in the living room. The worst is yet to come...the attack on the living room floor itself in which we do not walk on the floor, but we definitely exit.

The exit strategy is never planned, but always, ALWAYS, executed with Scat STYLE!

Livin' Large

Scat...