Last in the Rat Race

She was trying so hard to be a shit, but just couldn’t quite pull it off… This time.

A long day at work led to a tired, quiet evening at home. MRA was golfing, so Kate and I went through the evening’s routine: dinner, pick up, bath, book. Minor detours: touch-up to our new garage door by Steve and random calls from the parental units as they argued over nothing. (seriously, nothing. GET A HOBBY!)

Putting Kate to bed – at our agreed-upon earlier time – I rubbed her back as she drifted off to sleep. Rubbed and rubbed.. the motion and dark room making me tired, too. Finally, certain that she was out, I got up, motioned to the dog and turned to leave her room. Success at 8:30 pm. Success and an early bedtime for me.

Glorious…

I hadn’t even reached the door.

“BUTTERFLIES! There are BUTTERFLIES on my head!” she screamed as she jumped up and off her bed, scrambling to get away. Scrambling like the devil was on her heels. “There are butterflies down there – BEHIND my BED!”

(Alecia – are you reading this? If anyone could relate, it’s YOU!)

Tipping between trying not to laugh at the absurdity and trying not to cry as bedtime was NOT YET OVER, I assured her there were no butterflies in, on or around her bed.

She was CERTAIN they were there. Dead serious.

We grabbed the MagLite (never know when you might need to beat a mystical butterfly into submission) and inspected the dark crevice behind her bed.

Nothing.

“It was a dream, Kate. Sometimes we dream crazy, crazy things.” This from QUEEN CRAZY in that department. Seriously, I dream some crazy, crazy stuff. Giant worms in my composter just the night before. (see what I mean?)

Back to bed. Back to rubbing. I finally gave up, stretched out beside her and sacked out for a bit before crawling back to my own bed.

Tired.

So tired…

Think anyone would notice if I napped under my desk?

Enough to share a Frisbee?

I don’t know about you, but I’ve seen where my dog sticks her chops. My guess is that this little athlete has the same abilities (and proclivities). Were I this dude’s wife, girlfriend, or S.O. I wouldn’t be too keen on the trick. As his dentist, though… hm, go for it.

The above photo was from the regular dog show at Purina Farms – just a short trip outside St. Louis. The “Farm” features a barn with chickens, bunnies, cows, horses, geese and of course, the requisite baby pigs.

For anyone with a bent toward marketing, you can appreciate the pure genius of the place. There is such value in creating lasting brands, a ‘product’ people like, and inspiring loyalty in your returning customers or clients. Purina Farms is a testament to those principals. After spending the morning there, I caught myself looking for the donation box. More than once. I then had to smack myself upside the head and remember we were in an advertisement. That is, the whole place is exists to promote the brand and to create a warm-fuzzy relationship with the public.

Job well done.
(Kate now recognizes the logo and, guaranteed, gets warm-fuzzies at the sight.)

After nearly two weeks of summer camp, most of which involves a swimming pool, Kate still isn’t too big a fan of putting her face in the water. She’ll do it though. On her terms.

In the meantime, however, she’s realized that she can lay on her back and put her head in the water. Big step for her. Two weeks of camp taught her what I haven’t been able to in two years. (disclaimer, this IS the bathtub, not a creepy foaming swimming pool)

Wrapping up her bath, and ‘cleaning up’ her toys, I caught her in midst of playing ‘T.Rex.’ These poor little beasties were her ‘prize’ for being a ranting lunatic at the dentist this morning. After cleaning her top teeth the clueless hygienist actually pulled the tools out of Kate’s mouth to reload. It was all the kid needed to whip out her ‘I don’t LIKE it!’ act complete with tears. 10 minutes, and two hefty threats later (’they won’t let us leave until you let them finish’ and the Pièce de résistance, ‘if you don’t let them finish, your teeth will fall out and you know what that means? NO MORE CHICKEN FINGERS!’), she let them finish. Anyway, back to her ‘prize’…

She makes a pretty good dinosaur, wouldn’t you say?

En route to a bridal (cheers for April!) shower Saturday, we passed a small park not far from our house. I think UCity has some public art project going on and the blue cones we saw dribbling down the hill were an installation.

“Did you see that?” she asks.

“I did. Pretty cool, eh? I think it’s art.”

“I think it’s art, too.”

“I think it is,” I agree, pondering further.

“Mom, you don’t know everything.” (yes, it was a statement, not a question)

WTF?!? Of course I do! You’re only 4! In your view, the sun rises and sets at my command. I rule the world.

I’m invincible.

I’m brilliant!

I’m supposed to be anyway…

This conversation isn’t supposed to take place for another TEN YEARS. (therapy, anyone?)