While I may frequently be glimpsed sporting prints, stripes, and yes, even plaids simultaneously,* when time is short and the only two mittens to be found have different colored cuffs, I suddenly care deeply about matching. What am I?
Generally known as the soundest of household sleepers, I may awaken at 2:30 of a February morn with the apparent express purpose of heartily belting out “Away in a Manger.” What am I?
Our ears, which are strangely deaf to most any maternal suggestion, somehow effect a magical foreshortening of sound waves in order to perceive the crinkle of Mom’s covert junk food operations from the farthest corner of the house. What are we?
Etc.
Answer me this, lest these children overrun and devour you.Sure, these riddles may be easier to answer than the Sphinx’s—but ever so much more difficult to comprehend.
*I was recently relieved to see a picture of a fellow CSPP blogger’s children demonstrating a similar fashion sense :D
4 comments:
Doubtless you also noted that being female and older than four don't improve the fashion sense much. :D
We have a midnight Pavarotti in our house, too. If you manage to develop a cure, do share. ;)
Ah. But at least y'all get words and a (maybe) recognisable song. Callie just yells at the birds on her mobile until someone comes and makes them go 'round for her.
MooreMama--Good point. Even on days when they're excessive, I don't (ok, usually don't) regret the words--we refer to the first almost three years of parenting as The Silent Years (plenty of screaming, yes, but oh so few actual words from our reticent firstborn).
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