My stripey little bag had another solo adventure this week. It's time my intrepid belongings start a blog of their own and stop hogging space here.
Last I remember is holding it between my teeth, one hand locking the car and the opposite arm craddling a bag of clothes and toys collected from the back seat.
Hours later I'm checking all the obvious places: freezer, linen closet, tv armoire. It's not on the hook in my closet or beside the chair at my computer. I'm a tornado of cleaning and orgainizing, spinning as if creating post-separation order will put it back on the hook. I look and I look and it's not there. Not in the freezer. Not under the couch.
Amelia watches in wonder as I sweep and sort and dig through dirty laundry. Now more entertained by the search than her third night of Hanukkah art supplies.
"OooHHHH," the long, pained sigh as I stand staring at her. Stumped.
"Mommy, you are fucked about the purse!"
Bite lips togther. Do not laugh. Do not react. Do not call any atention to her perfect word choice.
"I'm frustrated about my purse," I say, hoping she let's it go at that.
Apparently my purse isn't the only thing I need to keep closer tabs on.
"Just frustrated? That's not as bad as fucked, right?"
That's hilarious, I can totally hear her saying that. So interesting, the way they pick up words and meaning.
ReplyDeleteDid you find it yet?
River is walking around saying, "Oh God!" Whatever - she can't say anything else yet. But your daughter takes the cake with that one. Funny!
ReplyDeleteHilarious. Gotta love that girl. Obviously got YOUR wit! And smarts.
ReplyDeleteLOVE her, she's a girl after my own heart! Wil, with all his communication disorders, knew how and when to say the "F" word, from an early age! That's an important life skill!
ReplyDeleteOMG! So funny.
ReplyDelete