How. HOW.

You guys. YOU GUYS. Mila is an extrovert.

I don't understand how this happened. I am the second most introverted person on this earth, and the other half of her genetic makeup is the first. Now, I will admit I can fake it like a pro, but STILL AN INTROVERT.

If you've met me and you're questioning this, THAT IS HOW GOOD I AM AT FAKING IT. It's scary sometimes how I manage to pull through for a small window of time. Trust me when I say EVERYONE pays the price later. When I travel for work and have to spend my day making small talk with strangers, the price is that I spend the evening acting like a fierce monster. Don't talk to me. Don't make eye contact with me.  I SAID DON'T LOOK AT ME.

I have told my children, "It's after 9:00. Stop talking to me." That's the nicest way I have to say it once I've run out of Fake It fuel.

Alexis, by the way, is also an introvert. She's one of those weird introverts who enjoys cheer and dancing on a stage and all of that stuff, but she definitely doesn't get her energy from being in groups. She's much more of a "sit quietly and read a book when she wants to reenergize" kind of person. She defeated the shy bug that she was born with, but that doesn't mean she wants to spend her days walking up to strangers and talking to them.

MILA DOES. We've been to a playground a bunch of days in a row and each and every time, she has made a friend or ten. She just walks up to people, introduces herself, and then insists that they be her friend. She doesn't care how old they are or if they look busy, she is amassing a crew. On the days when she manages to get several kids to run around with her, she's the happiest.

Tonight she had a crew of 6. SIX. Three of them were definitely at least two years older than her. They were abiding by her every order and happily joining her in little giggling fits all over the place.

I don't know what to do with an extrovert. I'm scared.

The Box

Before I tell you about the 3598734134th example of how Mila is a strange little person, let me just say IT WORKED. Fruit flies definitely like beer and the beer trap was the most effective of all of the traps.

Who knew that a loser saying completely inappropriate things during a job interview could be so helpful?

(Yes, I have resorted to name-calling. Normally I wouldn't but SPECIAL CIRCUMSTANCES.)

AHEM.

Mila. She's a strange one. I've likely mentioned that she is, in many ways, the opposite of spoiled. She may get her way a lot (mostly because she's about as stoppable as a wrecking ball), but she doesn't get things. For example, there's really no reason to buy her toys because we still have most of Alexis' toys and Mila seems happy with them. Every once in a while I'll pick up a dollar bin gadget or something for her, but for the most part she plays with the toys that have been cluttering our house since before she was born.

I think that's why The Box is so special. Maybe. It might also be because of who it came from, but I can't be sure because MY KID IS WEIRD.

Anyway.

Alexis stayed over at a friend's house on Saturday night. When Mila and I picked her up on Sunday, the friend was all, "I have some dolls I've outgrown. Does Mila want them?" and we were like, "Whatever," and suddenly there was this giant shoe box filled with Monster High Dolls and a Barbie bed and some other gizmos.

Mila was SO excited. Like, over the moon, squeaky and smiley excited. Which, yes, the kid squeaks when she's excited. Like a mouse. Considering there is a mouse living in our garage right now, it's swell. I love having that brief moment when I'm all, "Excited Mila? Or the mouse got in the house?" every day.

Mila was SO excited about that box that she has now turned it into her security blanket of sorts. She's hauling it around absolutely everywhere just like Linus does his blankie.

She sleeps with it.

She takes it to school.

She takes it with her up and down the stairs and up again because wherever she is, so is the box.

I'm not really sure how long this whole phase is going to last, but I am enjoying the random questions from strangers and teachers and such. It's super fun explaining why a box filled with secondhand toys is the most important thing in the world and JUST LEAVE HER BE, PEOPLE. SHE IS HAPPY.

Anger Issues. I Have Them. I WONDER WHY?

I have spent the better part of the past week angry ... just ANGRY. Let me be the first to admit, it's not because of the fruit flies but OMG THE MOTHER TRUCKIN' FRUIT FLIES.

Somehow we've generally dodged that brand of insanity. There is always ALWAYS fresh fruit in our house, but we go through it too fast for the fruit flies to find it. Every once in a while I'll see one or two, but NOT ANYMORE. I bought some mandarin oranges for Mila this weekend and apparently they were infested with the entire population of Fruit Fly-landia because OMG STAAAHP.

Nothing says 2018 quite like some useless irritants seeing something sitting there all innocent and helpless and being like, "I can take some of that. It is mine. I am entitled to it because I am a mighty fruit fly!" There are so many entitled little jerk fruit flies in our kitchen.

I spent way too much time scrubbing the kitchen from top to bottom this weekend in an effort to get rid of them. Then I escalated to the water/vinegar trick, and then came this morning. Oh, this morning.

I'm not proud of what I did. The good news is that I had to make do with a vacuum cleaner instead of the flame thrower that I really wanted.

Did you know that you can suck up fruit flies with a vacuum? YOU TOTALLY CAN! I'm sure I looked mighty "interesting" as I stood in the middle of the kitchen brandishing the vacuum wand as if it were a sword. Those little mother truckers are quick, but I AM QUICKER. You think you can just help yourself to that innocent fruit? NOT ON MY WATCH, MOTHER TRUCKERS.

Ahem.

I caught seven of them with the vacuum. I win.

But, there are still a few left. They're flying around, trying to take that which does not belong to them, acting as if they should be able to have whatever they want just because they're a member of the Allegedly Cool But Actually Very Loser-ish Club. It leaves me with one choice. Do fruit flies like beer? I seem to remember that they like beer. TIME TO DROWN IN YOUR OWN ENTITLEMENT, MOTHER TRUCKERS.