Monday, July 21, 2008

Best Day Ever

Big brother is having what the Victorians called a crisscross day. That means he's in a generally bad mood. After watching an episode of SpongeBob SquarePants, he's been calling every day his "best day ever." Today, however, everything in his world is wrong. I tell him that when the day starts out badly, he should take a deep breath and start again. The Victorians would start again by saying, "Good Morning!" After my cheery lecture, Big Brother stares at me, expressionless. Then, he continues to whine an explanation of how his little day went south.

"It started out to be the best day of my life when I was about to play music in my room, but then the princess came in and started playing the drums and making a mess. Now it turned into my worst day ever!"

I follow him upstairs to capture the princess, but she's no longer in his room. In fact, after a few seconds of searching, I can't find her. I'm starting to panic, running from room to room calling her, upstairs, downstairs, then outside in the backyard. Where is she? The longest ten minutes of my entire life pass.

Then, suddenly, the princess reappears. She comes down the steps looking like a preschool version of a Hollywood pin-up from the 1940's, in plastic play heels, a bathing suit and white sunglasses. "Here comes Beach Princess," she announces. Apparently she changed while hiding from me inside baby brother's bedroom closet. I lose my patience.

"Why did you ignore me when I was calling you?! You made Mommy get really scared!" I hear myself shouting, but I can't help it. The princess looks down at her feet. "Sorry Mama. I was just playing hide-n-seek," she mutters. I let out a sigh, exasperated, and head toward the bathroom medicine cabinet to take a Tylenol. I suddenly have a headache. Big brother follows me, talking.

"Well Mama, it sounds like this started to be your best day ever, until the princess hid in baby brother's closet. Everybody is afraid of something, and everybody has crisscross days. You're afraid of losing the princess, I'm afraid of shots from the doctor, the princess is scared of monsters or bugs, and daddy is afraid the Yankees will lose. When tomorrow starts over, maybe that can be our best day ever!"

I stare at him, expressionless, wishing for patience. It's time to take my own advice. Giving him a kiss, I say, "Good Morning!"

1 comment:

Elizabeth Kathryn Gerold-Miller said...

Whenever the Yankees play the Mets and your husband is jumping on the couch for joy, listen hard and you might hear mine howling and cussing like a sailor...

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Welcome to my writer's blog, started about six years ago for fun. Over time, the writing I have posted has ranged from personal reflection, to Long Island history research, to tall tales for my own amusement, to feature articles for local newspapers. As you can see from topics listed here, I travel in many mental directions in regard to interests. Click on the tabs and labels to explore my strange mind which senses that you may be having a criss-cross day. If so, perhaps this blog will distract you. However, please note that if you tell me my blog is beautiful just to get me to advertise rhinoplasty surgery and cheap drugs from Canada in your comment, I will ask the gods to give you a tail that cannot be concealed.


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