Too young for stress

My daughter is a little artist.  I have her artwork all over my office from the times that she's been there with me.  I mentioned to her that some men we're working with right now really liked her artwork and I thought it would be nice if she made some more for me while she's at my office on Tuesday.  She asked me when the men were coming back to my office and when I told her Wednesday I got "I'M GOING TO FEEL PRESSURED!" from her.   

Oh my!  I had no idea asking her to color a couple of pictures was going to be such a stressful request!  But apparently she has visions of a multi-picture display. She's so funny.  Now I just have to make sure she remains calm during her assignment. LOL

I am apparently being replaced

Every once in a while I do something, usually on purpose because I like to drive my husband a little crazy (it keeps him on his toes), that seems to require my husband to ask my daughter what color her new mommy's hair should be.  My daughter typically yells out, I don' t want a new mommy!  Once when he complained that I was being silly and asked her that question she said, "I like a silly mommy."   She's so cute.  I thought.

There are also little things I do to her just because I believe that part of the job of children is to provide entertainment value.  So whenever I make her a hot dog and cut it up for her, I eat one of the ends.  I don't know what started it, but I've always done it.  It was probably just a way for me to make sure it wasn't too hot at one point, but I've never stopped doing it.  However, NOW she notices.  And it bugs her.  So I continue to do it. ... if you knew my father you'd understand. :)     She will tell me not to as I'm making the hot dogs and I invariably find something for her to do to distract her before I start cutting them up so I can grab one of the ends.

The other day I handed her a plate with two hot dogs on it, sans one end of course, and she marched into the living room (doubles as our dining room at the moment) where my husband was sitting.  She sits down and says "Blond".  My husband, completely confused, asks her what she's talking about.  "My next mommy...she should be blond."      Hmpf.  No sense of humor. :)

Got to love cats

This post is not about Katie, although she loved hearing this story.

This morning at about 3:45 our beloved (JC would say I'm using that word without authorization) and somewhat crazy cat was chasing his ball around our bed.  He likes to play fetch and he'll bring it up on the bed to try to get us to play with him.  If we don't he'll just bat it around the bed and jump all over us playing with it.  This morning the festivities began at 3:45.  I had been sleeping through some of it when I realized that JC had gotten out of bed.  I turned over planning to take the ball and put it under my pillow which is my normal response to this nocturnal activity.  I propped myself up on my elbow and looked at the cat as JC was walking back into the room.

As my eyes fell on the ball, JC said "DON'T MOVE."   I said, "What is that?" (Remember I don't sleep with my glasses on.)  He said, "A live mouse." and proceeded to put his hand over it and scoop it up (he had grabbed his work glove while he was out of the room).  

You know, my other cat, my mouser, used to kill the mice.  I wish that she had managed to train this one before she passed last year.  One of my first thoughts when I knew that we would have to put Tigger down was "who's going to catch mice".  Apparently I should have been more worried about who was going to KILL them.  (By the way, my house is not overrun with mice, we ususally get one a year.)

Fun way to start the day!