Save the Bunny Nuts

Before I say a word, you have to go over here and read this post from a year ago. Seriously, go. THAT is where this story starts.

You back now? Cool. That video made you think my kid is coo-coo for Cocoa Puffs, didn't it? Me, too.

(Spoiler alert: SHE IS. It's an adorable brand of crazy, though.)

I gave that whole Easter Bunny encounter approximately 3.477222 seconds of thought. Crazy kids think they see crazy things. End of story. Game over. Let's move on to the next bit of insanity, mmkay?

Alexis, however, gave it a whole lot of thought. She dwelled and she processed and she thunk on it. Over and over. Again and again. I didn't realize it at the time, but I found out was we were gathered around a table with several of our friends. We had just been snow tubing and Alexis was munching on some caramel corn as she made sure everyone knew every single thing she was thinking.

She will develop a voice that only she can hear eventually, right? Just say yes, even if you have to lie to me.

Anyway, the child was rambling on and on and somehow ended up on the topic of the Easter Bunny. I expected to hear her start making demands about all of the things he should deliver with his handy basket, but instead she reminisced back to that time he was up in her loft touching her things.

"If I see the Easter Bunny again, I'm going to kick him in the balls."

She said that. Out loud. While surrounded by grown-ups.

We all lost it in the most spectacular way possible. Nobody could make eye contact with anybody and I was literally crying from trying so very hard not to laugh. I completely failed and ended up trying to explain to Alexis that it's not nice to threaten the Easter Bunny's -er- manhood like that between guffaws.

I'm pretty sure she missed the point. I don't even know if I made a point. You know, what with all of the laughing and everything.

So if you happen to own a bunny suit, might I suggest leaving it in the closet for a bit? I know I asked if I could borrow it so I could get some sleep, but I value my manhood (and yours!) more than I value sleep.

Bringing My Baby Back

The baby has melted away.

I've known it is gone for a long time, but sometimes when I glimpse into the rearview mirror of my car, it's there. The baby. There's a twinkle in Alexis' eye and a way that she lets her life's experiences fall around her that leaves the baby behind. Innocence and purity and just a tiny little girl who is trying to make the most of what life has given her.

It was that baby, the real one, who invented a game many years ago. It was five years ago, in fact. I know this because I have this written history of her life and it tells me details like that.

Lellow Car.

She started it when she was two. She later changed her enunciation to make it seem a little more grown up, but I still hear "Lellow" when she plays the game.

If Alexis sees a car, truck, or bus that is yellow, she screams YELLOW CAR! at the top of her lungs. The point of the game is to find more YELLOW CARS! than the other passengers in the vehicle. It's not a game for the faint of heart because TOP OF HER LUNGS. I do not exaggerate these things.

The rules of the game have evolved a bit over the years. Where once it was a legitimate competition, now I do believe the rule is that Alexis only plays if she is winning. If I yell out YELLOW CAR! when she is not paying attention, she will huff and cross her arms and declare, "I'm not playing." But if she is winning, GAME ON.

I'll admit the game is fixed these days. The sweet taste of victory isn't quite sweet enough to overcome the bitter words of a sore loser. Once in a while I will give her a bit of a run for her money, but mostly I let her win.

(Alexis, when you read this, you can be mad. It's cool. You'll understand it when you're a mom some day.)

It's a frustrating game when Alexis is with me because seriously she will rip my head off if I dare win. But when she's not with me ... when I'm in my car alone and I see a yellow car, I smile. Always. It's in those moments that baby Alexis is with me and she's eagerly pointing as she yells LELLOW CAR!

Stabbing All Of The Clocks

You know how you always console yourself as you watch your kid lose her ever-loving mind by saying it can only get better? Wait, what? That's just me?

Crap.

I thought I had company in my eternal parenting optimism.

When Alexis was a wee little thing (who never slept), I suffered through Daylight Saving Time by telling myself eventually she would grow up! And sleep! (HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA ME SO FUNNY!) And not be bothered by Daylight Saving Time!

Excuse me while I go slap myself for being so very wrong.

ANYWAY.

I'm going to stick with the thought that things will get better eventually, but now that I know that Seven is not The Magical Age At Which The Kid Recovers From Time Changes, I am developing a very serious hatred for the time change.

VERY SERIOUS.

Like, I want to set it on fire. When I figure out the logistics to that, I will do it. Twice.

Not helping the situation is the fact that it turns out that one of the first people to suggest we push the clocks ahead was a bug guy who wanted more daylight so he could go collect bugs. BUGS. I'm not making that up. The internet says it, so it must be true. And if it is even slightly true, my rage for Daylight Saving just grew exponentially.

I hate it so very much already, but I'm willing to make more room in my heart for a little bit more rage.

As Alexis said this morning, "You have GOT to be kidding me! It can't be morning already." That was before she completely lost her mind because she was convinced it wasn't time for bed yet tonight. Meltdown city. I drove through it.

Tomorrow is going to be so very delightful.