Just like most girls, I have toys.
And my favorite toy is, admittedly, on the smallish side – but boy, when it gets going – it’s insanely hot and I could play with it all night if I could.
Yep, I’m the proud owner of a Benzomatic Butane Torch.
I derive immense pleasure from watching silver and gold melt into fire-red shapes and pools – and then the sexy, whispered sizzle when I quench the piece into a cool water bath.
I mostly do my torch work at night – when I know that the chances of someone walking in on me and knocking into me by accident is
eliminated decreased. Although, with my planning for our move and packing, my opportunity to indulge in this type of “play” (I have too much fun doing it, so I can’t call it “work”) has been sadly decreased.
I was working on soldering a particularly intricate piece of silver last night, listening to the sounds of the birds and frogs and crickets telling me secrets (OMG…the things that go on in the woods!).
Pad, pad, pad, pad Thump, thump, thump, thump….down one flight of stairs….two flights of stairs….clear indication it was one of my three younger girls coming down looking for me. The footsteps echoed angrily as they stomped through the house – clear indication that that was Daughter #4. Following her was a scurry of more feet. Clear indication there was tattling and trouble involved.
The three stood all in a row in front of me, oldest to youngest – who held an armful of blankets that even I couldn’t carry all in one shot with any hopes of not tripping. All squinting in the harsh light I was using in the studio with my torch.
I took a deep breath and said dowidzenia to the quiet. “Sweethearts!! What’s the matter?”
(Oh boy, I had to ask…)
All three started talking, whining, sobbing, crying, pointing, hissing at once.
“She stole all my blankets!!” my six year old pointed to her three year old sister, “I was sleeping and she just came and snatched them.”
“And she tried to take my blankets too,” the eight year old whined, “And when I wouldn’t let her, she took my laptop right off my bed and now she won’t return it!! MOMMY!!”
More footsteps coming down the stairs. Daughters #1 and 2 – a.k.a. the “rubberneckers” – had to watch the show.
I held out my arms to take the enormous pile of blankets from my youngest – her three year old body looks so tiny. Instead she walked into my arms and gave me a kiss.
Yep….she’s got it down pat.
“Fluffy-buns…what am I going to do with you?”
“Maybe I just need to be spanked?” she looked up at me with her big blue eyes and mess of curls, and planted another kiss on my cheek. That child has never been spanked – threatened daily with a spanking, but there’s never been the need to. Good old Catholic Guilt 101 has been working nicely for me.
“Honey, you can’t just take the blankets off your sisters while they’re sleeping. They’ll be cold.”
“But we’re moving to where it’s warm, right?”
“Well, we won’t need blankets anymore and I can make myself a big tent to play in on my bed. You promised all day to make me one, and you never did.” She snuggled her little body into me, “you were always too busy.”
(Maybe I should be the one spanked…)
“Aaaawwwwww….” cooed Daughters #1 and #2, her biggest fans (next to Daughters #3 and 4).
And with that, they all got sent back up to their beds. All with their blankets. All with dreams of Myrtle Beach or the Cape.
OK, who am I trying to fool, they will be dreaming about One Direction.
And I got to return to my toy again – and to the gossip from birds and frogs and crickets…and, for a fleeting moment, the man who lives in the woods behind my house flashed through my thoughts…
When I finally went to bed this morning – about 4ish, I was dismayed to find my blanket missing, as well. I tip-toed into the younger girls’ room, and sure enough, there was my blanket – on my youngest’s bed. And inside that blanket – all three of my three little girls, cuddling together – in their tent.
It was a very good night indeed.