By Heather O.
Have you ever noticed that temples and hospitals smell the same? I went to the hospital today for some routine tests, and as I walked in, I was met with the smell I always associate with the temple. I immediately had that, “Oh, I’m entering sacred space” reverent feeling come upon me, only to remember that I wasn’t there to make covenants, but to get my kidneys imaged. I suppose both could be considered revelatory experiences, though.
My friend informed me that today is Daddy daughter day at Chick-Fil-A.
“So, what does that mean?” I asked.
“It means that Dads can take their daugthers out to dinner at Chick-Fil-A.”
“Do the dads get free food if they bring their daughters?”
“I don’t think so.”
“What, no free food? What’s the point of THAT?”
Seriously. Chick-Fil-A, love you guys, with your whole Christian pop/country music, no work on Sundays, trying to do right by your employess thing you’ve got goin’ on, but no free food on Daddy-daughter day? Now that’s just crazy talk.
It’s finally warm enough to plant my garden. Happiness is having your 7 year old sprinkling radish seeds about while your toddler tosses dirt in the air. As long as the dirt doesn’t get in her eyes. Then the happiness goes away. Loudly.
Last night, Little Sister woke up pretty much every 45 minutes until 2am, at which time we picked up on the fact that every time she woke up, she would cry, “Owee!” and grab her left ear. 5 minutes later, drugged up good and proper, she finally fell asleep, and we sighed and great sigh of relief and went to sleep ourselves, only to be awakened 30 minutes later by our dog growling and whimpering. Well, it was really only me, but if you think that I’m getting out of bed in the pitch dark to check on what the dog was growling at, you probably were in on the whole no-free food Daddy Daughter Chick-Fil-a plan.
So I nudged my husband, and told him that our dog, who never growls, barks, or whimpers at night, was doing exactly that, and that her growl was very distinctly her, “I’m protecting my family from intruders” growl, and that he needed to go check it out. Because it’s the man’s job to do that. Everybody knows it to be true.
Understandably so, DH was not pleased, especially because he was convinced it was not the “I’m protecting my family from intruders” growl, but the “I see a leaf blowing in the wind and I’m a stupid dog and have no sense and I growl at blowing leaves so please ignore me because I’m just an overzealous canine who should be in the garage anyway” growl.
This frustrated me. I mean, seriously, the man NEVER takes me seriously about these things, and I told my husband that in no uncertain terms, and that it would probably serve him right if our computer got stolen and our children were kidnapped and our refrigerator got raided just because he wouldn’t check on our dog.
Did you know that 2:30 am is not the opportune moment to discuss emotional marital issues?
Just for the record, there was no intruder. But there SO COULD’VE BEEN.
Cinnamon Chex is my new favorite cereal.
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