Learning By The Way

Yesterday, James was feeling yucky and didn’t go to church. Margary stayed home with him so she could get her full nap and so I could actually hear the sermon without Miss Wigglepants distracting me. By all accounts she had a great time at home with her papa reading from the Bible and playing together. The part that is pertinent to this story is where Margary finds her sister’s digipet on the floor and starts pushing buttons. Moriah got this digipet for her birthday, and it is currently a 9 lb. cat pet that she ‘takes care of’ by pushing the proper button (Evidently you can change the type of pet which it can be. It used to be an 11 lb. butterfly. That’s one butterfly you don’t want to meet in a dark parking lot, late at night). It beeps when it has needs that it wants you to take care of (food, water, read to it). James doesn’t want Margary to mess up Moriah’s pet by pushing random buttons, so he puts it out of her reach. On the nightstand, right by our bed.

Some of the children are on a Beverly Cleary kick, and last trip to the library there were several of her books checked out. Toby spends part of his Sunday afternoon amused by the antics of Ramona the Pest. Come bedtime, he puts the book down on the floor by his bed. I sing and pray with the children, and then we all go to bed…

Except for Little Red, of course, Toby’s Red Eared Slider turtle. He is happily swimming around in his pond in the corner of the boy’s room. Probably thrilled with his sparkly clean environment (Toby and I cleaned the pond this weekend). Maybe even doing a back flip or two. Certainly never noticing that in his swimming, he has somehow managed to disconnect the water return tubing coming from the filter.

I am almost asleep, or perhaps I have been asleep for a few minutes, when a “beep, beep” sound catapults me back to awake. I recognize the sound of a digipet in need. I think perhaps I can ignore it and fall into a deep sleep where small beeps will not disturb me. But sleep is like a fog which envelopes you, you cannot hold tightly to it as it dissolves away. “Beep, beep” Doggone it. “Beep, beep.” I get up and carry the digipet down the hallway to the bathroom. No one is sleeping in there, it can complain all night without disturbing anyone, I hope. Besides, I think the digipet’s beep might indicate that it needs to relieve itself and where else would it go?

On the way back down the hallway, so close to my sweet, sweet bed, I hear Margary crying. I stumble quietly in to check on her. She is asleep, evidently having a bad dream which causes her to scrunch her little face up in sobs. Probably dreaming that her will has been thwarted and that mama has told her “No, NO, Margary. Give Elsie’s glasses back right now.”, or some such nightmare. I rub her leg and she quiets down with a sigh. Covering her back up, I then turn toward the doorway to make my escape.

Why is the floor to the boy’s room so shiny? I’ve never seen it that shiny before. I want to shrug and go back to bed, unbothered by inexplicably shiny floors, but instead, I cross the hallway and step in. With a splash. I estimate there are about 15 gallons of water washing over the floor, guessing from the amount missing from the pond thus far. I lean over to pick up a sodden item. A waterlogged copy of Ramona the Pest. Someone is going to be having a not so fun talk with a Peoria Public Librarian, and I think it’s going to be me. I unplug the filter and come up with what seems to be a reasonable plan of attack. Remove all wet items that need to be taken care of tonight. Like Toby’s large, stuffed lion that I can’t ever remember the name of (Sweet Pea? Sir Chuckles? Fuzzy Snuggles?) but who already sports a large scar over most of his torso where he almost got ripped limb from limb but is fine after I mended him, and will now add drowning to his list of near death experiences. I put him to drain in the bathtub. Spare blanket and towels mop up enough of the water so that the laminate flooring shouldn’t warp. The rest of the clean up and filter reassembly can wait till tomorrow when Samuel and Toby can help.

Sometimes when I am out with all 6 of my children, a stranger will comment to me, “My, you have your hands full.” I have several stock answers for this. One I use frequently is “Never a dull moment!” And that just covers the half of it. My life is more interesting than most movies on the shelf down at Blockbuster. And I wouldn’t want it any other way. Though a little more sleep would be nice.