The Best Hiding Place, Ever!

Hannah growls. Hanna growls a lot. Well, she is part dinosaur, you know.  Dinosaurs growl. I tried it. It is not so appealing when Mommy growls, apparently.  But, some days, a Mommy just feels the need to growl.

Last night, Madelyn decided she was big enough for an alarm clock. Out of the blue, she is in dire need of an alarm clock.  I received one for my birthday from my Grandma Shirley when I was in Second Grade.  Yes. I still have it. And now Madelyn is using it. I set it for seven a.m. and everyone went to bed.

I was up eight times last night.  Three with Audrey, took Hannah back to her bed (climbs in with us quite regularly) three times, took Madelyn back to her bed (rarely climbs into bed with us, but knew Hannah was getting away with it and thought she could), and then to chase rats from my living room. The rat part was part of my vivid imagination working. I dream eccentrically.  I tend to act them out.

I was up at six-thirty this morning feeling pretty perky, considering the night. Maybe I was happy that the rats weren’t really there in the first place.

After I got ready for my day, I went in to check on Madelyn. I heard her mumbling. I found her in her closet picking out her clothes. I asked if her alarm went off. She said that it had, and she had shut it off and was getting ready for school.

Score! She is ready for an alarm clock.  I hope it lasts.

After we took Madelyn to school, Hannah and I played.  Hannah had found a quarter and wanted to play hide-and-seek. I told her I would, but changed the rules. Our house is nine hundred square feet. Not much room for Mommy to hide. So we played hide-the-quarter.  I went first.

I ‘hid’ the quarter in the middle of the living room floor. She found it quickly.  I hid it on her pillow. She found it, too.  Then, she insisted that she hide it.

“Alright,” I said. I loaded the dishwasher until I heard the “I’m ready!” bellow from the back of the house.

I could not find that silly thing.  I was exasperated. She wouldn’t give me hints or play hot-or-cold with me. Finally I had to concede.

“Where is that quarter, Hannah?”

“All clean, Mommy!”

Sink? No.  Washing machine? No. She couldn’t have slipped it into the dishwasher while I was working there. Checked anyway. She is sneaky. No. Laundry basket? No.

“Hannah, seriously? Did you eat it?” She has a habit of doing that.

“No, Mommy.  See?” She ran off. I found her, and her secret hiding spot.

She lifted the lid on our toilet and just beamed.

“See, Mommy? All clean!”

Eye roll. Head slap. And, eventually, a grin. Yes. All clean.