I Don't Really Want To Know
Yesterday morning I went in to wake up
Maddie for school. She’s usually the harder one to wake up,
and she’ll often begin to stir in a very, um, crabby fashion,
so I usually approach her bed gently, like nearing a wild animal.
But when I gently touched her and lovingly said, “Maddie,
it’s time to wake up now!” she opened her eyes wide,
gave a huge grin, and stretched happily.
“But Mommy, I’ll tell you
what’s really at the very top of my Christmas list,”
she said conversationally, as if she was picking back up where
we’d left off only moments before.
“What’s that, honey?” I
asked cautiously, concerned that she hadn’t gotten the memo
I’d sent out about how CHRISTMAS LISTS ARE CLOSED! I MEAN IT!
“The very top thing I want for Christmas is a mouse that
won’t pee or poop on you.” Maddie rolled over joyfully.
“A real live mouse, that can live with me and let me dress it
up. But,” she said ruefully as I listened, slackjawed,
“I’m not sure how we’d ever find something like
that. You know?”
And with that she climbed out of bed and started her day.
Sometimes it’s better not to ask.
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