I Might Need To Lock Her In The Basement Soon

When I told her who would be joining us at Shrek the Musical, Alexis immediately replied, "You mean the boy who ate all of my Goldfish?"

Yes. Yes, that's the boy. She shared her bag of Goldfish crackers with him nearly two years ago during the March of Dimes Walk for Babies. Apparently, she thought he ate more than his fair share of those crackers and plans to never, ever forgive him. Please note: she remembered that moment despite not having seen him at all since that day. And here I thought I was good at holding grudges . . .

Fortunately, Alexis decided to stick her grudge in her pocket before we joined Firemom and her oldest son for dinner before the show. There was a reasonable amount of 5-year old drama all through the meal, but the overwhelming theme of the evening was two kids who would be the bestest of friends, if only 100+ miles didn't separate their homes.

There was giggling.

There was hand holding.

There was more giggling.

Did I mention the giggling?

Basically, the two of them had a great time hanging out together.

So it came as no surprise that when I asked Alexis to tell me her favorite parts of Shrek and our evening out, there were more than a few mentions of Big Brother. She mentioned that she had fun sitting with him. She mentioned that they both laughed at the same parts of the show. She mentioned that they both got Shrek ears.

And then she mentioned that he had said, "I love you, Alexis!"

I told her to never trust a man who steals your Goldfish crackers.

Sometimes grudges come in handy. For me.

Timing Is Everything

It was well over two hours past her bedtime, on a school night no less, so it was not at all surprising that Alexis had fallen asleep in the car. What was surprising was just how very asleep she was. When I leaned into the back of the car to unbuckle her seatbelt and carry her into the house, a river of drool ran down her face and onto her coat. She was so sound asleep that she didn't even wake up as I maneuvered her arms through the seatbelt straps, a surprising fact as she has been waking up enough to get her own arms through the holes by herself for years now. Normally, if a flea exhales three counties over, it's enough to wake Alexis.

I carried her into the house and gently set her down on the couch so I could find some pajamas. She who is usually oblivious of the human need to sleep didn't so much as twitch. She stayed sound asleep as I quickly pulled off her shoes, pulled her arms through her coat sleeves, carefully maneuvered her cardigan out from under her, and removed her tights. She even stayed asleep as I replaced her dress with a comfy pair of pink flannel Minnie Mouse pajamas.

I hauled her upstairs to her bed, her sleeping body like a sack of potatoes in my arms. I pulled back her bedding and carefully tucked her in between her brightly-colored polka dot sheets. As I pulled the last of her many blankets up to her chin, I marveled at the fact that she still hadn't stirred AT ALL. I don't remember the last time that I managed to move the child from the car to her bed without her waking up and throwing a middle-of-the-night party. Three years? Maybe four?

I leaned down to give Alexis a kiss on her forehead, just as I always do when I tuck her in for the night. "Goodnight, princess," I whispered. "I love you."

"I love you, too, momma," she whispered back.

She may not have stirred when I could have used a little help getting her to bed more efficiently, but even as she slept, she managed to say the exact right words at the exact right moment.

A Savings Plan

I try to pretend the kid has a choice in the matter, but the reality is she doesn't. Since the day she was born, any time Alexis gets any money from anyone, half of it goes into her savings account. I figure she doesn't need a single thing right now, but when she's headed off to college some day, she might appreciate having a few bucks stashed to buy books or whatever. Of course, by the time she does head to college, books will probably be non-existent, but maybe she'll be able to post her own bail after she gets arrested for stalking Sidney Crosby. Or whatever.

In the past year, I've started to give the kid a little more power over how she handles the half of her money she sort of has accessible. And by "power," I mean I've made her life complicated. Instead of standing in the toy aisle at the store and helping her find something that she has enough money to buy, I've been asking her if she really wants to spend that money, or if she wants to save it for Disney World or so she can buy her playhouse.

The answer 99.9% of the time is that she wants to save it to buy a playhouse. Shhh. . . don't tell her, but we're planning to buy one sometime this summer. In the meantime, I greatly enjoy watching her stuff every penny she has in her piggy bank. Saving money builds character, right?

So tonight we were on our way home and were talking about the playhouse she's hoping to get. She has figured out that she wants to paint it bright pink (NOT HAPPENING, but she can dream if she wants to). She wants polka-dotted curtains in the windows. She plans to take her blue moon blanket out to the playhouse, just in case she ever needs to rest for a minute. Really, she has it all figured out.

As we drove down the bumpy country road talking about the playhouse, I realized that the weather was entirely too perfect for us to just drive past the field filled with horses. I pulled off to the side of the road and we jumped out to greet Alexis' furry friends that don't live with us.

As Alexis petted and talked to the horse she has name Abby, her thoughts returned to her dream playhouse. She scrunched up her face and then her face exploded into enthusiasm and glee.

"Momma!" she said. "I figured it out!"

"What did you figure out?" I asked.

"I figured out where Abby can live!" she continued.

You probably know where this is going, but I am too dense to have realized I was about to walk right into a giant trap.

"Where is Abby going to live?" I asked.

"Since you won't let her live in my bedroom, she can live in my playhouse!" she said as she bent to pick up some straw for Abby to eat when she moves in.

I told her she would have to save up enough money to buy a horse trailer before she can even think about that. DON'T ANYONE DARE SEND THE KID ANY MONEY.