Butterflies and Hairballs

Hey . . . make sure you guys pop over to http://jauntyquills.com/ on Thursday where I'll be guest blogging. I'm giving away like three copies of my book. The blog is about Streeeetch . . . .ing.

Oh, the lessons you can learn from a seventeen month old. Recently while at my daughter’s house I really became a wiser woman. My little grandbaby taught me a valuable lesson of . . . avoidance, or you might call it deterrence. Yup, who knew a seventeen month old could be this smart?

You see, we were visiting my daughter and whenever my daughter would scold my precious little seventeenth-month-old granddaughter, she would first get this very sad look on her face and then she would look up at the ceiling and with wide expressive eyes she would say. . . “Butterflies.” She would even point her little finger up as if to say, look around, I’m sure I just spotted one.

My daughter wasn’t born yesterday and she already had a pretty good idea of what Lily was up to, but nevertheless, it was so cute, it brought all of us to laughter each and every time. And each and every time my granddaughter got exactly what she wanted from us, too. The scolding was over, the negative moment was gone and life was good again.

Let’s fast forward two weeks. I’m sitting at my desk. Hubby comes storming in the office in a snit. (You know what a snit is, don’t you?) Anyway he was fit to be tied with chains, not just rope, and he looked at me and asked, “Do you know that YOUR CAT left a very unpleasant surprise in our bed while I was napping?” In hubby’s defense, my cat is the only one I allow in our bedroom. And yes, Skitter can leave some serious hairballs on the bed and nothing is as unpleasant as rolling over, being half asleep, and finding yourself nose to nose with a hairball resting on your pillow. Hubby continued, “I simply do not get why this cat is allowed in the bedroom when he does things even worse than the others cat.” Okay, I’ll admit this, too. Skitter is the hairball king. He’s my one and only long-haired feline.

But to answer hubby’s question. Well, Skitter is special. He was/is feral, and he doesn’t get along with people or even the other animals. He only loves me and occasionally when hubby is in a good mood, he will tolerate hubby—even if it is only to leave a hairball on his pillow. However, my hubby knew this answer. I’d explained this numerous times, he was just angry at finding himself nose to nose with a hairball again.

So I did it.

While hubby was going full rant about hairballs on the pillow, I looked up at the ceiling and in total Lily fashion, I said, “Butterflies.”

Hubby stopped cold and burst out laughing. And I joined in, as well. And just like Lily, I was completely content. Hey . . . I’d avoided the rant session and we were laughing. What was so bad about that?

Anyway, I encourage you guys to try it, though I’m not sure if it will work on anyone who hasn’t watched Lily pull her precious little avoidance act. Nevertheless, it worked for me and from now on when the shit hits the fan, or when the hairballs hit the pillows at the Craig house, you will hear me . . . “Butterflies.”

So what lessons have you learned from a child? Any avoidance tactics you could share? I'm sure "Butterflies" won't last forever.