We were all getting ready for the day a few mornings ago.
Lilly was telling me something. I honestly don't remember what it was. Her tummy hurt? Her hair was beautiful? I don't know.
But whatever it was, I must of reacted to it, because then she got very excited about sharing the story with her father.
At school, the children are trained to place a hand on the teacher to indicate that they need something, and would like to have the teacher's attention when they are done.
I understand this system, and I even think it is pretty smart. It's quiet, and teaches patience, and still gets the job done. And I give the teachers a lot of credit. I have witnessed them working one-on-one with a child, while three or four children are silently standing there, with their little hands touching whatever body part they can reach that isn't currently occupied. Like little faith healers.
Still it annoys the hell out of me. WHY ARE YOU TOUCHING ME? STOP TOUCHING ME. GET OFF GET OFF GET OFF.
Anyhow, on this morning, I see Lilly walk up to Chris as he is in the hallway and place her hand on his hip.
He ignores her.
He walks to the bathroom, and she trails behind him.
He strides into the spare room to help Owen with something. She trails behind him.
Oh, sweetheart. Good luck with that.
Chris is a man on a mission in the mornings.
When he comes out of the room, I notice he has somehow shaken Lilly off.
"Hey," I say, "could you please just listen to Lilly's story before you go?"
"Sure," he says, "where is she?"
"Hmmmmm. Haven't seen her all morning. Just kidding. She's been holding your hip for the past five minutes."
He glances into the spare room where I am almost 100 percent sure Lilly is, because I just saw her follow him in there, and she hasn't come out.
He doesn't see he, and starts to head downstairs.
Knowing that, barring the Ascension, she is still in that room, I call Man-Looking on Chris.
And then he looked again and found her.
And that is the end of the story.
Until Lilly sang me this song:
I know it's crazy,
to believe about a mother
even if she is blind
and lost in the woods
it's still okay
because I still have a father
and that's kind of like a mother
and he doesn't listen to me.
(sung to the tune of a tuneless rendition of Frozen)