The big boys are still asleep, bunked and tucked. The small boy is up, covered in peanut butter, watching Mickey Mouse with a dazed look in his eye. I’m clutching my coffee (story of my life).
In the night, I was awake. People kept calling, needing, coughing. I took people potty and collapse into bed, only to wake to the sound of the loose screen banging against my open window frame, keeping rhythm with the breeze as the rose bush tapped it with moonlit petals. It sounds poetic, but at the time I had just woken from a zombie apocalypse dream, so I was mildly concerned. Regarding zombie apocalypse dreams, “Ain’t nobody got time for that”. Especially when “nobody” also owns a new hamster in an old house. Even after figuring out the loose screen sound, the house still rattled. I made Derrick get up and “check” for bad guys IN OUR HOUSE (possibly zombies) and it only took him three rounds before he remembered said hamster, who was, at the time, running his little hamster brains out on his little hamster wheel. It was…not a silent wheel as advertised.
About an hour later, the baby woke up. So, here we are.
What’s that you ask? Why do you have a hamster?
It’s my fault really. I have a blog. Sometimes I post things on my blog’s Facebook page. Things like this:
This morning the toddler woke up at 4 a.m. so at breakfast we were…not our best. Derrick said, “Okay, new rule. We’re not going to complain anymore in this family.”
and I said, “If you guys can do that I’ll give you a million dollars!”
Derrick gave me a look over his cereal bowl and Shel yelled, “NO! Not dollars! A hamster! A blue hamster with wings!”
Today we learned not to make rules at breakfast and that some people don’t have a solid grasp on the idea of hamsters.
My evil friend reads my story and gets the idea that Shel should have a hamster for his birthday. So there you have it. Some people make a lot of money with their blogs, they get book deals and free…money (or something). I get hamsters.
I guess I don’t mind. Shel has been checking on his pet often and lovingly. He can’t get over the fact that it is HIS pet, for himself. Today I sliced a bit of apple for Hamstie, and Shel said, “Okay. I will give her some apple. Don’t cut too much though. If you give her too much she will get sick, and then I will be SO SO mad at you. I don’t want my pet to get sick!”
I made sure to cut the apple slice very hamster sized. It’s a stinky gift from a stinky friend of mine, but Shel loves it and that makes all the rodent smell disappear.