Friday, January 22, 2010

Remind Me Again How I Don't Like Mondays

As always - The Cast of Characters

Me (The Daddy)

The Bean: Age 8
The Butterfly: Age 6
The Darling Wife

Each year, the DW makes a trek to Vegas for a Trade Show.  She sets up the booth, irons the curtains and does pretty much whatever the Union lets her do.

This year she blew a fuse.  The Union Electricians found this quite funny.  They got straight to work solving her problem.


But I digress.  

When the DW goes to this trade show, I take care of the The Bean and The Butterfly.  With "Mama" out of town, I am met with predictable results.

The Bean handles this, for the most part, in stride.  The Butterfly, now there's a different story.

The Butterfly is 6 years old, but still is in her "Mama" phase.  She cries inconsolably.  There is nothing I can do to calm her down.

Did I mention The DW is in Vegas?  I think I did.  Did I mention she was in Vegas for 10 days?

Can you say Sad Butterfly?  Can you say Frazzled Daddy?

The Butterfly won't go to bed.  She claims to be afraid of the dark, which she isn't.  At least she doesn't claim to be afraid of buttons, like her cousin.

I strike a deal.  She can keep the lights on in her room as long as she stays in her room.  This is somehow acceptable.

The next morning, I'm having one of those dreams where the alarm is going off, but the noise is incorporated into my dream.  I could have slept forever.

Except The Bean comes in and wakes he up.  "Daddy!" she exclaims.  "Wake up!"

Garble, garble, garble.

I buy time.  "Go check on your sister."

The Bean vanishes and reemerges with the news.  "She's asleep on the floor."

I shuffle into her room and gently shake her.  "Butterfly," I say, "it's time to wake up."

No response.

"Really," I say a little more firmly.  "Get up."

"No!  It's still night time."

She has a point.  It's about 6:40 and pitch black dark.

"It is morning.  It's almost time for the bus.  You need to get dressed."


So with The Butterfly still asleep, I dress her.  Her hair looks like, what's the word?  Ragamuffin. 

Meanwhile, The Bean is giving minute-by-minute time updates.  "It's seven o'clock!" she calls.  "Seven Oh One!"

We get to Stop (the hip name we've dubbed our bus stop) with seconds to spare.  This was on a Monday.  Only four more days this week.

Wash.  Rinse.  Repeat.

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