"What are you doing?"
"What are you doing?"
"What are you doing?"
I got out of the shower this morning--10 minutes behind schedule as usual--and heard E asking this question--each time with different emphasis--each time the volume of his voice rising significantly.
So, wrapped in a too small towel--pretty much just boobs and cooter coverage (Janz is staying with us and I didn't want to scar him for his ENTIRE life.)--I scurried into the kitchen. Here's what I found. Sophie, pantsless (of course) her bare ass just at my eye level, standing tippy toe on the counter, reaching into the back of the top shelf of the cupboard and pulling out a canister of Italian seasoned bread crumbs with a triumphant and slightly sheepish look on her face.
I repeated her dad's earlier statement: "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!"
Soph gave me her best, "well dur dummy" look and answered, "Getting some breadcrumbs."
Luckily, I needed both of my hands to hold the glorified hand-towel over my naughty bits, so I couldn't strangle the life out of her as I asked, "Why in the hell do you need breadcrumbs?"
Again with the "dur dummy" look and, "To feed the birds."
What followed was me not allowing her to traipse through the neighborhood, pantsless, at 7:00 pm, in the 40 degree blackness, scattering breadcrumbs for the "poor, starving birdies" and her having a breakdown and subsequent time out. This breakdown was followed by another involving her eating an entire bowl of butterscotch chips for breakfast--well, not being allowed to eat an entire bowl of butterscotch chips for breakfast, thus the breakdown.
(Insert transition)
While having a fairly major relational and spiritual breakdown of my own this weekend, I went and saw a lady--Melanie I think--who does angel readings. In addition to teaching me how to connect with my higher self and filling me in on my past life as a slave to a very cruel master (I won't tell you who the master was.), she told me--unsolicited--that Soph is an exceptionally old, wise, and intuitive soul who is here to be one of my main spiritual teachers. I broke into our higher-plane revelry to say, "But she's such a naughty brat!" Melanie looked a little startled that I hadn't said something like, "Yes, yes, I've intuited our many incarnations together." Then she paused for a while, and cocked her head to the side like she was listening to someone and said, "Well, it's hard for her to remember that she can't do everything she wants." I tried very hard, but wasn't very successful, to not give her my best "well dur dummy" look.
Today's best thing about being a mom:
Being missed by someone after being at work all day.
Today's worst thing about being a mom:
Sometimes it's just too spiritually enlightening.
8 comments:
Oh
my
ahem
Never mind, I won't even begin.
xoxo
Have her make some PB and seed feeders for the birdies next time.
Sophie was the wild old slave master, wasn't she? And she gave you that "dur" look right before the whip.
Existential crises are a bitch. I have a perilous tendency to medicate them. Or is it marinate them?
At first I thought E was asking you what you were doing for being in the shower late. I was thinking - how rude. Sorry E.
She's so spirited and free - it might be hell to reign in but she sure as sell sounds like a good spiritual guide.
Oh and I'm guessing it was your mom!
or your dad.
little soph. it probably is hard for her to remember she can't do whatever she wants. so do you think the reading was good? I want to know more about it.
If it was one of our parents it was our mom.
But you NEED to tell me who your master was.
When I read these stories of Sophie badness, I am always heartened that someone else is putting up with the same bullshit that we are. Then I get scared because she's 1.5 years older than Dermot and apparently things just get worse.
SO need to hear more about all of this.
Loves!
Slave to a cruel master, eh? I'm guessing your master was............Ghengis Khan. Am I close?
Missed you this weekend. Lets try to get together after turkey day. Love ya
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