So a couple of weeks ago, I was luxuriating in the feeling of having my husband at home. He'd been gone on a really long business trip and had just walked in the door. The kids were thrilled he was back and were all over him. After hugging and kissing and twirling them around, he was taking a few minutes to check on his yard and the huge tomatoes and cucumbers growing in his garden. The kids were running around him in circles, telling him everything that had happened while he was away.
And me? I was sitting on the sofa. In the air conditioning. Drinking iced tea. Playing Farm Heroes Saga on my phone with no one bothering me. After 12 days of the kids clinging to me because their dad was gone, it was absolute bliss.
I heard the screen door open and the familiar slam of it closing. Then I heard Mini's voice.
"Momma, there's a demon spot on the sidewalk. That means they're coming tonight. BUT DON'T WORRY. I got a rope."
She scampered over to me with a rope in her hand, gave me a kiss, and then scampered out. I heard the screen door slam shut.
I sat there for a minute in shock, blinking.
A minute later, the Cap'n and the kids came in, I noticed she didn't have the rope anymore. I asked her what she meant by "demon spot". She explained it was a spot in the sidewalk in front of our house that was black, wet, and shiny. I had noticed it too. It was a big glop of bird poop.
I told her it wasn't a demon spot.* She looked at me with pity and patted me on the upper arm.
"Momma. Come on. I told you not to worry. I got it."
The demons didn't come that night, so apparently she was right. Not actually that surprising.
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*I think she thought it was a demon spot because we'd been watching a lot of Hayao Miyazaki movies. Or maybe not. I don't know.
(c) Mommyland Blogs 2013-2014
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