Viggy went to reserves last week for all of three days. It was a very long three days.
I decided that having a husband in reserves is a good time for a spiritual awakening. For example, it's a good time to do some introspection about whether you've truly accepted that you can't fully control your fate, or whether the real reason you sleep OK at night these days is having a big strong guy sleeping just a foot away (spoiler alert: it wasn't the first thing).
It's also a good time to do some heartfelt praying.
What, you thought I'd be praying for Viggy? He was just doing some exercise in the desert, he's cool.
I didn't see any cockroaches, so I survived too. A pigeon did try to come in the bathroom window at one point, but I scared it away by reasoning with it from the other side of the bathroom door. Or maybe it just fell off the windowsill laughing.
On Viggy's third day in reserves (so after his second night away from home) I found N and D looking over a photo album with pictures of Viggy during his original army service. "This is Daddy in reserves," N informed D.
"We're looking at his picture so we remember what he looks like," she explained to me.
*****
On the same morning D refused to pick out clothes. Fortunately, being the clever Mommy I am, I knew just what to do - I picked out clothes for her, knowing it would inspire her to yell, "NO! OOooof, not THOSE clothes! I'M going to pick clothes."
She came back out with a different shirt, a different skirt, and two pairs of underwear. Why two pairs? "So that I can choose." I then had to hold both up for her careful consideration.
*****
D told me the other day, "Right, I shouldn't kick when I'm on the stairs, because when I tried to kick the cat while I was on the stairs I almost fell down?" See? They can be taught.
For the record, D doesn't try to actually kick animals. She just kicks at them, I guess to demonstrate that she is a force to be reckoned with and they should not even think of trying to mess with her.
Then if they don't look sufficiently scared, she runs to hide behind my legs.
I am trying to find a way to explain to her what a very stupid idea this is without re-introducing dog phobia. "Honey, you can't do that, it's very not nice for the doggy" isn't doing it, but "For ^&*^'s sake, kid, stop that before a pit bull takes your leg off" would probably be overkill.
If anyone has ideas, feel free to share.
I decided that having a husband in reserves is a good time for a spiritual awakening. For example, it's a good time to do some introspection about whether you've truly accepted that you can't fully control your fate, or whether the real reason you sleep OK at night these days is having a big strong guy sleeping just a foot away (spoiler alert: it wasn't the first thing).
It's also a good time to do some heartfelt praying.
What, you thought I'd be praying for Viggy? He was just doing some exercise in the desert, he's cool.
I didn't see any cockroaches, so I survived too. A pigeon did try to come in the bathroom window at one point, but I scared it away by reasoning with it from the other side of the bathroom door. Or maybe it just fell off the windowsill laughing.
On Viggy's third day in reserves (so after his second night away from home) I found N and D looking over a photo album with pictures of Viggy during his original army service. "This is Daddy in reserves," N informed D.
"We're looking at his picture so we remember what he looks like," she explained to me.
*****
On the same morning D refused to pick out clothes. Fortunately, being the clever Mommy I am, I knew just what to do - I picked out clothes for her, knowing it would inspire her to yell, "NO! OOooof, not THOSE clothes! I'M going to pick clothes."
She came back out with a different shirt, a different skirt, and two pairs of underwear. Why two pairs? "So that I can choose." I then had to hold both up for her careful consideration.
*****
D told me the other day, "Right, I shouldn't kick when I'm on the stairs, because when I tried to kick the cat while I was on the stairs I almost fell down?" See? They can be taught.
For the record, D doesn't try to actually kick animals. She just kicks at them, I guess to demonstrate that she is a force to be reckoned with and they should not even think of trying to mess with her.
Then if they don't look sufficiently scared, she runs to hide behind my legs.
I am trying to find a way to explain to her what a very stupid idea this is without re-introducing dog phobia. "Honey, you can't do that, it's very not nice for the doggy" isn't doing it, but "For ^&*^'s sake, kid, stop that before a pit bull takes your leg off" would probably be overkill.
If anyone has ideas, feel free to share.
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