My Fresh Hell
Life in Scribbletown.

Teenybopper is Our Newborn King

Yes, we did make it to the pumpkin patch on Sunday. The clouds broke and so did the illnesses so we drove down the road and good grief were there ever a lot of cars. Here I was thinking I could beat the churchgoers by arriving before 11am. For a millisecond, I thought maybe I'd stumbled onto a hotbed of agnosticism or something. Nah, not a chance. I think all those people probably went to the 8:30am service (shudder) and were already back in their regular clothes by the time we lazy heathens arrived in our rumpled end-of-the-week-this-is-all-that's-still-clean duds.

We waited a few minutes to get up into the hay wagon and enjoyed the perfume of diesel fumes emanating from the mega tractor that pulled us up to the pumpkin garden. It was muddy. Really muddy. Dusty hung her head over the side of the wagon to watch the wheels slosh through the huge runnels of mud. Sklish! Sklosh!

Once out of the wagon, we meandered up and down the rows of pumpkins naked and alone as the plants had shriveled and died already. She picked out a big pumpkin and a little one and we loaded ourselves back onto the wagon and handed over the dough back at the nursery. I also bought a flat of pansies which Dusty and I planted after Red went down for her nap.

Red. She's some kind of odd little bird, that strawberry blondie. She and Dusty are so different; it's fascinating to compare their temperaments. Dusty was such an easy-going, almost complacent, happy little toddler. She's never had a single temper tantrum in her life. Usually, when she's upset or frustrated, she just melts into her own private puddle of tears.

Red, on the other hand, is a firebrand. She lets everybody within a mile know exactly how she's feeling about everything, whether it's needing one more olive or no more medicine RIGHTTHISVERYMINUTE! I'm really surprised that she's a Gemini and not a Cancer (like moi) or a Scorpio. Do you know a Scorpio? Have you ever been stung by one? Still got the scar, don't you? Yes. Me, too.

She's one of a kind, that Red. Here's two recent examples of her uniqueness, both of which involve music.

One. I pick her up from daycare on Friday (the only day she attended last week) and I've got a classical music CD is playing. I like to play quiet, soothing music when I pick the kids up since I figure they've had busy, intense days and can use the ride to chill before we all get home and things get busy again. Red gets antsy and starts to fuss. I remove the CD and put in a Best of ZZ Top. She hoots with glee, kicking her feet to the beat. Five minutes later, she's sound asleep. Who knew ZZ was good for lulling babies to sleep? Maybe I'll sing "Tube Snake Boogie" to her at bedtime. Or maybe "Tush" is more to her liking. Those are kid-friendly songs, aren't they?

Two. Music does indeed soothe the savage beast. In order to get through a nebulizer treatment without screaming, Red likes to be sung to. Not just any song, mind you, but "The Beat Goes On" by Sonny & Cher:

The beat goes on, the beat goes on.
Drums keep pounding a rhythm to the brain.
La de da de de, la de da de da.

Something about that song really makes her smile. Nothing else will do. Why I chose that song to sing is beyond me. I guess it was just resting there in the little gray cells that afternoon when she was kicking and bucking and refusing to be nebulized. Out it popped. And Red was pleased. Score one for me.

Weird kid. She's clearly gonna be somebody.


12:13 p.m. ::
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