Playful, elegant, and not above the judicious use of the word “shit."

Some thoughts before a hopefully more peaceful day tomorrow

Yesterday afternoon we drove up to my mother’s cabin in Duchesne, Utah to relax a bit with some of my family, although I’m not so sure you could call it relaxing what we’ve been doing, every ten seconds shouting: SIT DOWN COCO. NO. SIT. SIT. I SAID SIT. COCO. COCO!! Because suddenly there are eight human beings to keep track of, and, oops, there goes one of them into another room and tragedy of all tragedies, the herd has been scattered! Except in this scenario we don’t get to watch that satisfying scene where the two cowboys finally get it on.

Related, somewhat: about six years ago we were visiting some friends in Memphis when I was pregnant with Leta, and while we chatted with the parents in the living room their four-year-old was back in her room watching a movie about a pony named Rain. You ever watched this movie? I don’t know anything about it, only that suddenly the four-year-old comes running gleefully into the living room screaming, “Rain came back! Rain came back!” Because I guess the pony runs away for a bit but eventually returns after a bit of soul searching. But the the thing is, this kid had watched this movie, what, a hundred times? AND SHE WAS STILL STUNNED THAT RAIN HAD COME BACK.

THAT KID IS COCO. I mean, whenever someone leaves the room for more than a few seconds she goes nuts, and when they come back through the door? RAIN CAME BACK! RAIN CAME BACK! Yeah, Rain came back, you idiot, she was just going to the bathroom. Rain has come back EVERY SINGLE TIME. Odds are, Coco, RAIN WILL NOT EVER GO MISSING.

Evil part of me wants to pay Rain to go away forever.

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