Monday, November 21, 2005

Positively Giddy!

I don't know what is going on in the rest of the world, but here at Casa de Blah Blah, it's all laughs, all the time.

Sunday night. Viva is having some trouble getting to sleep. She calls out for me for the umpteenth time, and I go into her room to discover that she has sweated so much that her T-shirt is damp. I change her shirt, leave the room and turn the air conditioning on, and then go back in to try and convince her to go to sleep. I lie down next to her.

Mama Blah: Okay, lovey, time to settle down. It's sleep time now, so I want you to close your eyes, and no more talking, okay?

Viva settles down with a loud flop. I rub her back. All is quiet for five seconds.

Viva [stage whispering]: Shh, Mommy! No talking! You have to be quiet!

Mama Blah [also whispering, trying not to laugh]: I AM being quiet, you're the one who's talking.

Viva: Shhh! Stop talking!

Mama Blah' Shhh! YOU stop talking. God.

Viva: Mommy, you have to be quiet.

Mama Blah: Okay, stop. No more talking NOW.

Again, it's quiet for five seconds.


Mama Blah: Viva! [starts laughing] I AM being quiet, you shush!

But it's over, because I am laughing and she starts laughing and it just gets more absurd until we are both hysterical. I have to sit up to catch my breath, and so does she. Every time one of us catches our breath, the other one starts laughing, which sets us off all over again. Finally...

Mama Blah: Whew! [wipes eyes] Oh my God, that was good. Okay, but seriously, that's it. [Gets out of bed] No more noise, baby. Good night. I love you. [Closes door, walks into living room, finds Sweet William comatose on the couch with no interest in sharing funny story.]


Monday morning. 7 AM-ish. The Blah Blahs are all sitting on the couch together. Viva is sitting on her daddy's lap drinking a yogurt smoothie. I am barely awake, but have already survived Viva's morning rejection of me.*

Sweet William: Who wants to go to work for me today? It's going to be so dead at work today because of the holiday week.

Mama Blah [yawning]: I can't believe it's already almost December.

Sweet William: It's here, honey. It's the holidays. [starts singing] Da-doo-doo-doo-doo-da-da-doo-doo, Happy Holidays!

Mama Blah: Oof. Ugh.

Sweet William [still singing]: When you can run around like a crazy person trying to please everyone, Happy Holidays!

Mama Blah [laughing]: Oh, don't --

Sweet William [still singing]: And they're all going to be mad at you anyway, no matter what you do, Happy Holidays!

Viva extracts her sippy cup from her mouth and joins in: "Happy Holidays!" And once again we are all laughing, and what the hell, it's Monday and we are totally cynical, but at least we can still laugh.

* Viva rejects one or the other of her parents every single morning. Her favored way of doing this is to say, "Go away! You're not my friend! Daddy [or Mommy, as the case may be] is my friend!" This is the same child who screams, "Come back! I want you!" when you leave her bedroom the night before. The same child who, for no reason, will wrap her arms around your neck, plant a big wet one on you and tell you she loves you and turn your heart into a big pile of goo.

You might hope, in this instance, for a mystical Preschooler Decoder Ring. I had one, and let me tell you, they don't work. Just as unpredictable and hard to read as the preschooler herself. You're on your own.

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