|I'm acting all innocent, but I caused my knitter great anxiety... *halo*|
But that's never stopped me before. :0 The neckline caused me some consternation, but I think my improvised finishing did the trick. It looks very cute on Mike. He wore it all day yesterday, to teach and then to rehearsal for his play. He said he got compliments on it all day. *beams* I can finally move on with my life and knit something else.
And so last night, Mike was at rehearsal, and I was managing the children. I was dreaming of watching "Center Stage" and having a nice adult beverage after they went to bed. I don't often get the television to myself, so anytime that happens I pounce and put on something involving dance, or people wearing habits. But that time was not yet upon us.
I was reading Anne "Franklin and Harriet," her current favorite story, and Henry was upstairs supposedly starting his bath. I hear no sounds of running water. Suddenly...hark!
"Mommy, I need you to come up here!!"
"WHY?!" No reason to actually get up when you can just shout.
"There's a fly in my room!"
*pause as I consider why this is a problem*
"It's just a fly, Hank, don't worry about it."
"MOMMY." *Henry materializes in front of me, real quick-like* "It's IN MY ROOM. And it's BUZZING."
"Flies don't sting, Hank. Just leave it alone. It'll fly away."
I still have to finish Anne's story, clean up the mess in the living room, wrangle her into her pj's and into brushing her teeth (never an easy feat these days), get her some water, and get her settled in her crib, which usually takes a solid 10 minutes of ritualistic kissing and placement of blankets and stuffed animals. I then have to shower, get into comfy clothes, tame my hair, get Henry his nightly asthma medication, entertain him until it's his own bedtime, and read him saint stories. All before I can relax. I don't have the patience for a fly right now.
"Mommy, I CAN'T. It's acting all weird, just buzzing on the floor and stuff. You have to come do something. I can't get ready for my bath with it...IN MY ROOM LIKE THAT."
UUUGGGHHHHHH. I can tell based on the description, in addition to the date and weather, that this is one of those odd off-season flies that is:
(a) inexlicably, and freakishly, large,
(b) REALLY loud and low flying, and
(c) stationary, not moving very far or fast.
Which means that it will not simply fly out of Henry's room and blissfully head to the basement, never to be seen or heard from again. I'm going to have to kill it. And I hate killing insects. It's not all warm and fuzzy, I just hate dealing with the squished body afterward. *wrinkles nose*
Anne has been commissioned into going up and "seeing the fly" by her brother, so I have no choice but to trudge upstairs. Both children are gathered in the doorway of Henry's bedroom. Loud buzzing is coming from inside.
"It's on the windowsill, Mommy." Henry is tracking the fly's every movement.
"Ok Honey, I'll take care of it."
"DON'T GO IN THERE MOMMY!!"
This is from Anne, who is real fearful these days of things happening to people. She clearly sees the fly as a dangerous threat.
"Don't worry, Honey, flies can't hurt us."
"Anne's not scared Mommy!!" This is what she says whenever she is in fact scared. I dispatch her to fetch a tissue for body cleanup purposes as a distraction.
I spot the fly, exactly as described above, lingering on one of the windows. I splat him easily with one of Henry's nearby books. The tissue is immediately put into use for cleanup.
"There. Fly all gone. Henry, go take your bath. Anne, we need to get you into your sleeper."
"Anne's not scared of the fly, Mommy!!"
We hear about the fly for the rest of the evening, as well as a full recounting of the dangerous tale for Mike's benefit first thing this morning.
It's always an adventure with toddlers. And I got through most of my movie later and was feeling happy when Mike got home to chat about his rehearsal. Life is grand.