When we arrived home last night, Matt was mowing.
In 95 degree weather.
(Not that the temperature makes any difference to this story, I just wanted to say how freaking hot it is here. In APRIL. 95 degrees. When I got into my car after work the thermometer said 105 degrees. IN APRIL FOLKS!)
Anyway, I digress....
As I was saying, when we arrived home last night, Matt was mowing and I set about getting dinner ready.
In true Gracie fashion, as soon as my hands were covered with the juices of raw meat she wanted to be picked up.
Down! Down! Doowwwwnn! (Because while she knows both up and down, she seems to get confused about which one is which.)
Knowing full well that Matt was outside, I decided to buy myself some time.
Gracie - Where is daddy? Go find daddy!!
Off she went, but I wasn't prepared for her response.
I had hoped she would wander into the other room and become sidetracked with toys, book, castle or all of the above. Instead she spent the next ten minutes wandering the house calling for him in the most forlorn voice I've ever heard out of her.
Daddy! Daddy? Daddy! Where you daddy? Daddy where you?
After I got over my initial shock that she knows the phrase "where you" I started to feel really guilty. How many parents send their kids on wild goose chases to occupy them?
I have vague memories of an Uncle constantly suggesting to me and my brother to go find "the snipes" in the back yard when we were children. I don't remember being upset about trying to search out a mythical bird he had created for his entertainment and our preoccupation though.
I guess in the end though it is all about keeping your sanity. And it is never a good thing to let sanity slip away while coated in potential salmonella and holding a butcher knife.
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