I know it’s hard to believe that I actually have three kids. I mostly talk about the youngest, Stella. It’s not that I don’t want to write about the older two, it’s just that there are obstacles to that.
Maizie is like the oldest daughter from the Osbournes (Aimee, you never saw her), much like Ted; she doesn’t willingly participate in my shenanigans. Then there’s Teddy, he desperately wants to be part of my blog, but I am frequently told, “I better not read about that later on,” or “You are NOT putting that on You Tube.” Therefore my options are limited to the little one, AKA my puppet.
Maizie basically refuses to act like a kid. She also gets embarrassed very easily (she will be mortified when she’s old enough to access this blog and read all the things I’ve written). Well, mostly she’s embarrassed by me. My very existence embarrasses her. The funny thing is, it only embarrasses her INSIDE the house. There was one thing that happened outside.
She didn’t want to get her backpack out of the car and stood there as I was walking into the house and told me to get it. WHAT? Are you all right? I started singing the Dora Backpack song and she was getting disgusted with me. I calmly told her I was going to sing louder and louder until she got it out of the car. So there I am, singing “Backpack, backpack. I’m the backpack loaded up with things and knickknacks too. Anything that you might need I have inside for you. Backpack, backpack,” as loud as I possibly could.
And in a strange twist of fate, instead of being completely mortified by me standing on the front lawn basically screaming a ridiculous song, she looked at me and started laughing. I think that was the point that she realized all those threats I had made in the past, weren’t just threats; they were warnings that would quickly turn into reality. She got her bag and we went into the house. I was very surprised she didn’t stamp her feet on the way in or slam the door and try to lock me out.