I was having a rough time this morning.
Any morning that starts out with a home invasion perpetrated by something with wings, antennae and a stinger is just not going to be a good morning (in my tiny bathroom with the door closed while I am brushing my teeth, no less). Jay did his duty as man of the house and killed the intruder. (The little bastard stung both Sawyer and the nanny yesterday. I didn’t feel too sorry for him while the bug spray killed him, just so you know.) I don’t like bugs, flying or otherwise, with a special hatred and dread of roaches (a big thanks to Stephen King and Creepshow’s “They’re Creeping Up on You!” for that).
Generally speaking, though, I don’t mind critters. They are skittish of me and I of them and that is fine. It also means that they (and I) keep our distances. We may both live in the North Georgia woods, but I would rather catch a glimpse of them, not come face to face. (Besides, if I had a Carrie Bradshaw hissy fit every time I saw a squirrel, I wouldn’t be able to walk out my front door. And, let’s face it, I am from South Alabama. We don’t have hissy fits over critters down here, so man up, city girls!)
As a matter of fact, Jay has taken to feeding the many, many birds we have living in and surrounding our yard. We have found evidence of egg hatchings of at least one robin’s egg and another more generic little white egg (at least I hope they hatched instead of being some other critter’s dinner – says the woman who has a boiled egg for breakfast everyday). I hear them all the time and love it. I also love the evening light show the fireflies put on every evening.
So this morning after Jay had rid our house of the stinging little bastard, he noticed a rabbit in the front yard. He picked Ezra up so he could see it out the kitchen window. It was cute. Ezra was impressed with the rabbit’s speed (of course – that child is going to be hell on wheels at 17, I’m afraid). We had a little discussion about wild animals and how they are scared of us and can bite, etc., and how they run too fast for us to catch because they are scared of people. Yes, all people, not just bad people.
I have probably mentioned that Ezra is a talker. He also has a wonderful four-year-old’s imagination. So as frustrated as I was for the encroaching of wildlife into my otherwise pristine human home, I got over it and allowed Ezra to both educate and entertain me on our way to his school.
For a bit of background, you have to understand that Ezra occasionally mentions “my sister, Abby.” The problem with this is that Ezra only has one sister and her name is Greta (my daughter). His father has no other children. Ezra’s dad is not married, either, so I assumed months ago when this first came up that he had introduced Ezra to a new girlfriend. I waited for Ezra’s dad to tell me about her, something he eventually always does with a new love interest.
Not this time. When I finally asked Ezra’s dad about “my sister Abby,” he told me he had been meaning to ask me about it. None of us have a clue who Ezra is talking about. We don’t know an Abby, and there is certainly not one who is his sister. It is a mystery because he insists he has been to her house.
And he brings her up all the time. At least once a week.
Today after seeing that rabbit in the front yard Ezra told me a whole story on the way to school.
He said the rabbit was lost. I thought Ezra meant from its rabbit family and tried to explain that it was probably a mommy or daddy rabbit out looking for food for his baby rabbits. But no, Ezra did not like my idea. This was not a responsible bunny out foraging for his bunny family.
He had something better in mind. (I put the Beatles 1 album on the in background, because Ezra was obviously not in the mood to allow me to listen to Morning Joe today)
Ezra sits back and tells me that it is his rabbit that he had at his “sister Abby’s” house in a cage. He used to feed it and pet it and hold it. It was brown and could run really, really, really fast. But one day it got out and got away and got lost. And now it is at Mommy’s house in the yard. But it is still lost.
He then changed the subject to the fast trucks on the road and how they go faster than the rabbit – and faster than my car. But Lightening McQueen is even faster.
Then he talked about the rain and asked where the sun was. I explained it was still there but the clouds with the rain falling out of them were in the way and we just could not see the sun.
And then he surprised me even more by saying, “When the rain and water disappears, it is called vaporation.”
I was impressed. I told him I didn’t know that he knew about evaporation.
Then he told me, “No, Mommy, let me teach you. Say ‘Vap.’”
“Very good, Mommy. Now say, ‘Oration.’”
“See, Mommy, ‘VAPoration.’ It means the rain is disappeared. Did I teach you, Mommy?”
Yes, Ezra, as a matter of fact you did. Thank you. I needed it.