The Little Bandit


Today was about eighty-four hours long.

That probably has a lot to do with the fact that Thing 2 was up at 1:30 this morning, asking if it was time to take his shower and have oatmeal.  I’m fairly certain that the inventor of Daylight Savings Time never had toddlers of his own, because we’re struggling over here at our house with it, and that’s definitely something that a toddler-owning gentleman would take into consideration before he started moving the clocks back and forth, back and forth, and HERE!  LET’S MOVE THAT HOUR HAND AGAIN.  And it isn’t just the toddler who’s struggling with the time change.  I couldn’t work up what it took to get into bed while it was still pretty much broad daylight outside last night, either, because I wanted to enjoy the beautiful spring weather we had until the very last, possible second.

By then, I had my second wind and stayed awake until after 10:00.

I know that college students consider that a LET’S GET A PARTY STARTED NOW kind of time, but I consider 10 pm to be the middle of the night.  I think it’s only a matter of months before my age doesn’t even consider a giant pair of Hane’s all-cotton underwear, that come clear up past the belly button and are held in place with a two-inch-wide strip of elastic, to be something dreadful.

Hubs stayed up last night to watch a recorded hockey game off the DVR, because THE AVALANCHE AND THE WILD, PEOPLE!  Not that this means much to me, but those in the center of the hockey circles will understand that this is THE match-up of the year, and they should make popcorn and enjoy all the fights, in between all the goals.  It’s kind of like BOXING meets HOCKEY, and becomes a HOCKXING match.  And here’s the thing:  Hubs already SAW that game when it happened, but when the score tips in his favor and the Avs beat the Wild, then it’s a game worth locking into the DVR for life and watching multiple times.

And yet… the man cannot understand my desire to see Steel Magnolias and Pretty Woman one hundred times each.

When Hubs finally came to bed at 11:30, he tromped through the bedroom and brushed his teeth in a manner that sounded like an entire elephant family had invited a buffalo family over for dinner and dancing in their clogs.  Naturally, I woke up, because a mosquito’s sneeze can wake me up.  When the big animals party, there’s simply no way I’m going to sleep through it.

And then Thing 2 got out of bed at 1:30, so it was a lovely night.

We got up this morning to the smell of boiling oak.

What?  You’ve never smelled boiling oak?  Well, it isn’t my favorite smell in the world.  The boy is taking a wood working class at school, and they’ve been working on shaping strips of oak by boiling them and shaping them with clamps, and I’m all for it.  I’m sure that there will come a day when the boy’s future wife says, “I wish you could build me a new dresser, and wow!  Could you bend the oak and make it all curvy?” long before he ever needs to balance chemical equations.  It’s all about USABLE LIFE SKILLS, PEOPLE.  The boy had homework to do for this class last night, so he threw a chunk of white oak in a pot on my stove after dinner last night.  Also, it should be noted that he had used wood glue to secure TWO strips of oak first, and THEN he boiled it.  So maybe it wasn’t so much the smell of simmering oak as it was the smell of simmering glue that made me want to pull my own eyelashes out and consult a realtor about moving.

The smell lingered all night long and was here to greet us first thing this morning.

It was the smell of homework, the boy said.  He added, “Of course homework stinks.”


IMG_2218 IMG_2221… looked pretty stinking cute this morning in his shorts, because GORGEOUS SPRING WEATHER and THANK YOU, DEAR JESUS.  When the kid asked for shorts this morning, I said, “Absolutely!”

And the truth is… he WAS pretty cute, until I went into the bathroom after Hubs had left for work and the boy had left for school.  Thing 2 was watching a video off of You Tube on the tablet in the living room about feller bunchers clear-cutting a forest and getting the logs ready to haul on semis.

(For the record?  I had no idea what a feller buncher was before Thing 2 came into our lives.  No.  Idea.)

I brushed my teeth.  I put some mascara on.  I added lip gloss.  I pulled my hair back with a bobby pin.  I was finished in about six minutes flat, because when you’re elderly, the beauty routine gets cut down to seconds, instead of hours.  I think this happens right before you decide that Grandma Underwear is just fine.  There you are, with a six-minute beauty routine, and the next thing you know, you’re buying pantaloons.

(And really?  Watching Steel Magnolias a hundred and nine times is useful, because it let’s you know the Hair Vision of the mature woman:  “Just rat it and make it look like a brown football helmet.”)

I guess in those six minutes, the local John Deere tractors became a little envious of all the work the feller bunchers were doing in the video…

… so they went to work themselves.

Don’t ever call a John Deere lazy.

Apparently a big shipment of Lucky Charms, straight out of the pantry, was needed in another state.  The trailers were loaded, and the fallout was considered just part of a day’s work.  Thing 2 wasn’t even remotely concerned about that fallout, because he was very busy picking the artificially-dyed marshmallows out of it as his morning snack.

So… to Miss Lisa and Mr. Mark, who grinned with sheer happiness on Thing 2’s birthday, when they presented him with a bag of goodies and gifts, that included his very own box of Lucky Charms cereal… please know that that it was one of his favorite gifts EVER.

IMG_2214 IMG_2213 IMG_2212 IMG_2208 IMG_2210The shipment of dried cereal and delicious marshmallows got out on time, and the toddler had one of his favorite snacks this morning.  And, because he’s the second child, I let  him play in the mess for a solid twenty minutes.  I think he was quoting Smokey and the Bandit, too…

“For the good old American lifestyle:  For the money… for the glory… and for the fun…” 

And roadblocks weren’t any problem with Thing 2’s trucking adventure this morning.

I’d call that a win-win-WIN situation.


Well, the big quote of the day was, “Hey, Mommy?  Can I use scissors and make you a haircut?”

Which is why all of our scissors are now on total lock-down, and will need a pass code, two fingerprint scans, a retina scan and twenty-four types of ID, along with a three-day waiting period, to check a pair out.

Can we haul Lucky Charms cereal in our tractors?  Yes.  Mama can live with that.  Can we use scissors to make a haircut?

No.  No, we may not.

Happy Tuesday, people.  Happy Tuesday.  May the time change be more gentle on you that it has been on us, and may your hardwood floors be clean.

2 thoughts on “The Little Bandit

  1. I read something the other day that compared Daylight Savings Time to a quilt that is just too long for comfortable sleep. To solve the problem, you cut a strip off of the quilt, all the way across the top. Then, after a restless night’s sleep because your feet got cold sleeping under the shortened quilt, you solve the problem by sewing the same sized strip onto the bottom of the quilt. AAhhhhh, Perfection!!

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