I guess the honeymoon is over. For the past six months, Abbie and Gracie have lived in almost blissful coexistence. Every once in a while, Gracie would show a spurt of jealousy when I was feeding Abbie, usually when she wanted to do something more exciting that required my attention, like riding her bike naked down the street. Last night, though, the kid gloves came off. The girls had their first fight. Over what, you ask? Mom? Daddy? A beloved toy? Actually, it was over the sticker from a Wal-mart t-shirt, the long clear kind that covers the entire left side of the shirt, showing the size over and over and over, so if you’re trying not to advertise that you’re buying an XXL shirt because it is the only thing that will cover your pendulous milk-laden breasts, you won’t really be successful. I wore the shirt yesterday, and as is my nature, I left the sticker on the couch. Last night, Steve was laying on the couch and both the girls were sitting on his chest. Gracie spied the sticker and started running it through her fingers. Whether it was the light reflecting the sticker’s motion or just the fact that her sister had something that looked interesting, Abbie quickly became mesmerized. Gracie started to swing the sticker in front of her, tantalizing Abbie, who reached out for it. As quick as blink, Gracie pulled the sticker back. Abbie started to wail, her cheeks puffed out like a blowfish, and she bit her little bottom lip, a sure sign that tears are about to fall. Gracie swung the sticker back closer to Abbie again; Abbie started smiling and again reached for the object of her affection; Gracie pulled the sticker back again; Abbie resumed wailing. After several rounds of this, I finally intervened, telling Gracie that it wasn’t nice to tease her sister that way. Gracie dissolved into tears and said, “But Momma, Abbie’s teasing me. She’s teasing me like a fat little bird.” Uh, huh…
The Teaser
The Fat Little Bird
Last night, Gracie was walking around the living room, toting her water baby that she got for her birthday last year, when suddenly she stops, pats it on the back, and says to it, very lovingly, “That’s absolutely poppycock.” Steve choked on his laughter, and when I finished giggling, I had a Eureka moment, “That’s it! That’s what I’ll call my blog – Absolute Poppycock!” Now, Gracie’s been saying poppycock for a few days (she says she heard it in Peter Pan, but I’ve yet to see where) and nothing has struck me about it, but as soon as she said “absolutely poppycock” I just knew I had my title, because well, the truth is, pretty much anything I have to say will be absolute poppycock!