Alone with Ellie

So, I'm alone with Ellie for the afternoon.

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The whole afternoon.

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One long, long afternoon.

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Yeah, so it turns out that I am not accustomed to being one on one with the child.

I usually have Tessa as a buffer.

Or one of the boys to keep her occupied with tattling, fighting or (as they constantly complain), "being annoying".

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She happens to talk a lot.

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Did I say a lot?

Allow me to re-phrase that.

Like constantly, nonstop, as in chatterbox-on-speed.

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I got to hear every detail of her day.

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Did I say detail?

I meant micro-detail.

I heard about her skinned elbow, but somehow her story started out with her and some boy not finding a frizbee and playing with a deflated ball instead. The ball was red, in case you wondered.

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Of course you did.

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At some point this evening, she actually stopped talking and decided she wanted to have a conversation. She cocked her head to the side, put a hand on her hip, and very seriously said,

"So, Mom. You're 28 years old now."

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"Yup," I said trying not to giggle. "I'm gettin' old."

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(I have been telling the kids for a few years that I am 27. The boys know it is a joke, but they also don't know how old I really am. When my birthday came last week, I said something about being 27 and Ellie corrected me. "No, Mom, you're 28 now!")

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"You're not gettin' old, Mom." She said with consolation. "But Dad is. His hair is getting really white."

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"Yeah, Dad is, like, a hundred." I said. She doesn't know I dye my hair.

(Shhhh. Don't tell)

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