Friday, March 30, 2012

Deep Morning Questions

It's been a long time since I've fed a little girl but Cassidy says that she can't take her hands out of the blanket because the bugs will bite her. Sitting here on the Beloved Back Deck she's covered in a blanket with only her bright blue eyes, nose with a scratch under it, and an open mouth waiting on me to shove a Cinnamon roll inside.

She is also "speaking without ceasing" as I sit with music streaming and trying to write. So this pattern is developing. I'll cram Cinnamon roll inside her mouth, she'll chew, I'll type a couple of words and she's talking again.

"Can I have all of the Cinnamon Rolls and my sisters not get any?"

"Are woodpeckers nice?"

"Can we kill Oscar (Sarah's dog) and bury it in the backyard?"

"Mike, when I die will you promise to put all of my Criplights (doll) in the hole with me?"

Staring at her, I marvel at both the diversity and depth of the topics. It's not eight o'clock in the morning yet and she is full tilt throttled already.

"What are you doing," she suddenly asks and I tell her.

"Read me the whole story," she commands so I do.

"Who is going to hear that story," she demands.

"The whole world," I tell her raising both arms towards the sky.

"Not my sisters," she forcefully commands. "My Mom can see it. And Cheryl. And Jodee. And my Pop and Gammy. And Goddess ... but nobody else."

I nod.

"Do woodpeckers have names," she asks changing topics.

"I just know about Woody the Woodpecker," I reply.

"Who's that?"

I explain the cartoon character from when I was a kid and she loses all interest.

"Hey Woody," she yells at the woodpecker in the tree, "have a nice day and no scary dreams tonight."

So the day begins ...