Try To Make Each Precious Day/ One You'll Always Rue

David left for L.A. early this morning, so it was on me to get Jarrah up, fed, dressed and to school on time. I know, you're all wah wah wah, some people do it for like 18 kids and don't complain. But it's hard!

Usually, Jarrah is standing over our bed at 7:45 when her nightlight snaps off (having been awake for nearly an hour) but today I was padding around after 8:00 and there still hadn't been a peep. I poked my head in there and sang: "Wake up, Little Snoozy! Wake up, Little Snoozy!" and then trailed off because I don't know any more of the words, but the effect was immediate and teenage-like. She pulled the covers over her head, groaned, and turned her back to me. I opened the blinds. She groaned again and said "I'm sleeping!"

"Time for school!" I trilled, with an enthusiasm I wasn't really feeling, and eventually she did get up and somehow we weren't too late. As we were driving, Jarrah welled up with the memory of her truncated dreams.

Jarrah: Mommy? Why did you wake me up?

Sam: Why do you think I woke you up?

Jarrah: I don't know. I don't feel like guessing.

Sam: Okay. I woke you up because it was time to get ready for school.

Jarrah: (wincing from the painful memory) But when you wake me up...I really don't like it.

Sam: Yeah, welcome to my world.

Jarrah: What?

************

Recently, we've been having a wave of people to the door who want to sell us candy. I'm never clear on what is happening there because I must confess I shout "No, thank you!" and slam the door as soon as I see the tell-tale box. Yeah, I'm a terrible person. Submit the forms in triplicate, please.

Anyway, Jarrah gets very excited whenever our doorbell rings, and can't seem to remember my exhortations never to open the door without me (especially when she's naked) and goes barreling over there to greet our visitors. On the first occasion with the candy dude, though, I got there first, and the door was closed again before she could make out what was going on.

Jarrah: Who was it?

Sam: (absently) Oh, nobody. Some guy who wanted to sell us giant chocolate bars.

Her eyes flew open wide, and I realized that potentially I had just said the very thing to convince her I needed to be carted off to a nice, quiet place to "rest" under supervision. But then I realized her expression was much more like:

Mommy just told me that someone came to our door to give us giant chocolate bars. Not just chocolate bars, but GIANT ones. And she said no. She said NO. Which can only mean one thing. The chocolate bars are poisonous. Or they are bombs. One or the other. Because Mommy could not possibly be that freakishly crazy. Could she? No, I won't even think it. No one is crazy enough to shut the door on giant chocolate bars. So back to the theory that she was protecting us from poison and bombs. Yeah, that's it. Phew! She sure is brave.

The next day, we were driving somewhere, and she wanted to revisit this fraught situation.

Jarrah: Mommy? Why someone want to give us giant chocolate bars? (Note: We have since discussed this incident about 500 times, and she never omits the word "giant.")

Sam: They're trying to make money.

Jarrah: But why they want to give us giant chocolate bars?

Sam: They don't. They want to sell them.

Jarrah: But we said NOOOO! Why we say no?

Sam: Because we don't want those in the house.

Jarrah: (pause. shudder.) Noooooo. We don't want those in the house.

(Since they are poison and could blow the house up.)