Playing for Time

Kim’s been working nine-hour days for the past two weeks, doing a one-man build for The Nervous Set at the Arts Center.  This has pretty much been his baby from start to finish and he gets to use a butt-load of skills he’s proud of.  He comes home every evening worn to a shred but in a good mood.  I’m all chirpy for him, and now that Madison’s here the hours when he’s working on a project don’t feel as open-ended as they used to.

By yesterday, though, it’s clear that Maddie does not share my “I’m happy you’re happy” attitude.  She is not happy.  I regret to inform you that she is conducting herself like a tiny white douche canoe — snorting her way down the hall for potty break, straining at her leash, and barking at everything in her line of sight including especially leaves and twigs.  My stern attempts at discipline only egg her on to greater displays of rudeness.

Daddy walks in the door at 5pm and she’s all over him, an innocent pixie with light in her eyes.  She covers his face and neck with kisses before I can get in line for mine, and as God is my witness she shoots me The Look — “Don’t even, Mommy dearest, he’s taken.”

I deliver the old classic “This child is causing me to come unhinged.  It’s your turn ’til bedtime.”  So he takes her out for Walkies & Potties and she’s angelic.  No snorting, no straining, no barking.  True story because I go with them — I HAVEN’T SEEN THE MAN ALL DAY!  He finds the whole thing hysterical.  Now they’re collaborating against me.  Another woman has stolen my beloved’s heart and there isn’t jack-all I can do about it.

It’s okay, Maddie.  Really.  You’re a smart cookie.