Thursday, July 05, 2007

Fruit Loops

Sometimes I think readers get the idea writers lead exciting, action-packed lives. While I suppose some of us do, most writers lead fairly ordinary existences. They do all the regular things readers do, except they manage to squash in time for writing, too. And editing. And all the other less-than-glamorous stuff that goes with it, like agonizing over covers and dedications. Okay, you get the idea.

Just a while ago something happened here that made me smile. And I thought I'd share it with you, just so you can see for yourself how truly glamorous this writer's life is.

Of course, yesterday was July 4th. We all celebrate in our own way, and here at my house we had a large family-and-friends barbeque. And last night after the fireworks and presumably after I'd had one glass of merlot too many, I volunteered to keep my cousin's darling daughter here for the night. After all, she was already asleep on the sofa, her blond curls spread out around her sweet face halo style. How hard could it be to have one small houseguest? Besides, my cousin Jenny and her husband rarely get any time without Bonnie. Really, it seemed like a good idea-for everyone-at the time.

Now I know why Jenny ran out faster than a virgin at an orgy.

Have you ever tried to satisfy a three-year-old's breakfast cravings?

"Hey Bonnie, are you hungry?"

"Yup. But first I gotta pee."

"Of course. Uh, do you need help in the bathroom?"

One eyebrow shot up and she glared at me. "Do I look like a baby to you? No, I don't need help. I can do it myself."

The slam of the door was the perfect backdrop for the slap of the cupboard as I reached for the coffee. Heaping an extra spoonful of Folger's into the machine, I kept one ear zeroed in on the closed door. Finally, I heard the sound I'd been hoping not to hear.

"I need help..."

Ugh. Before coffee?

Bathroom duty done, and hands scrubbed, we return to the kitchen. Bonnie climbs onto a stool beside the counter and begins to kick her toes on the cabinet front at her feet. Ignoring it, I head for the fridge.

"What do you feel like having this morning, Bons?"

"Fruit Loops."

Yeah, right. Fruit Loops?

"Pancakes? How about some pancakes? With little faces on them? I think I've got some raisins around here somewhere..."

"No. Fruit Loops."

Uh oh.

"Oh, look! Croissants! Uncle Bill brought them yesterday afternoon! I've got some of that expensive blueberry jam from that shop on Main Street. I was saving it for--well, I can always get another jar. Really, it's only twelve bucks a jar...but hey, it's blue! Isn't blue your favorite color, Bons?"

"Not cwosants! Fruit Loops. I want Fruit Loops."

Forty minutes later Bonnie polished off the last of her chocolate chip, blueberry waffles drenched in pure maple syrup and accompanied by a huge glass of chocolate milk. I was, thankfully, drinking my second cup of coffee--just to fortify myself for the task of cleaning up the enormous kitchen mess. I turned to the little darling, now covered from eyebrows to knees in syrup, and asked, "Now, weren't those waffles good?"

Nodding, Bonnie said, "They were okay. But not as good as Fruit Loops."

Yeah, it's real glamorous here.