(Previously posted in 4/2010)
One day I was sitting at my laptop in the kitchen concentrating on meeting a deadline and somewhere in my subconscious I heard Munchkin #1 yelling for me from the upstairs office.
“Mom, I need you to come here,” asked my daughter.
Out of habit, I bellowed back, “What’s the matter?”
“Just come here,” she replied.
Calmly I asked, “Is anything on fire?”
“No, but I need you,” said girl wonder.
Now in hindsight, I vaguely remember hearing her say there was a spider on the wall in the office, but between my concentration on my article and her not truly answering my questions, I did the bad mommy trick, tune out your overly talkative child. I try very hard not to do this, for I hate it when people do it to me, but there was this deadline, and…
Needless to say, I did not go upstairs. And after asking several times for me to come help her, she gave up on me. This is what I heard next. STOMP, STOMP, STOMP (x13) down the stairs, a loud exhalation of frustration, the kitchen silverware drawer opening, rustling around for the right utensil, another exhale, and a slam of the drawer.
Now she had my attention. “Honey, what ARE you doing?”
“I need a fork,” she said irritated.
“What do you need a fork for?”
“I TOLD YOU THERE WAS A SPIDER IN THE OFFICE!!” she snapped, turned around and started to run up the stairs with flatware in tow.
Yes, my 4.5 year old daughter was going to fork that spider to death since her lazy mother wouldn’t do it for her. I ran upstairs, apologized for not listening to her and removed the silver weapon from her hand. Then with one razor quick move, I removed my flip-flop, smashed the bug proudly and said, “That’s how you do it!”
“I would have used the fork,” she claimed.
©2012, Hatton. All rights reserved.