Because I wrote about my youngest daughter last time, my oldest asked to be featured in this week's column. To be fair, I did ask if she was absolutely sure it was okay to write about her.
I've written about my oldest daughter several times before. In case you forgot which one she is I'll recap some of the columns. She is the one that had the thermos filled with vegetable soup explode in school and is the one we have told “If you think it's a good idea – it's probably not.” I could fill a book with some of her antics.
From the time she first started walking and talking we knew she was going to be smart and very unique. She can be a quick thinker, when she chooses to think. I'll give you a couple of examples. My daughter was fortunate to pick up many of my physical traits, among them is her red hair. As a child, I did not like people rubbing my head and asking me where I got my red hair. I also did not like being called carrot top or red. When she was about four or five, I would introduce her to people and tell them I never wanted a kid with red hair. I quit giving that introduction when she responded, “I never wanted a dad with red hair.” She was probably about the same age when she was standing behind me while I was sitting down and as she gazed at the top of my head she said, “Your hair looks like grass seed growing.” That's when I realized I had a noticeable bald spot.
Her problems really begin to spring up when she chooses not to think.
I have had to dig up a septic tank because she clogged a toilet with what appeared to be a whole roll of toilet paper. She didn't learn from that mistake and recently clogged up the bathroom sink with toilet paper because she couldn't find a wash rag to wash her face. I'm still not sure how that worked for her.
Even when she does choose to think, her reasoning sometimes astounds me. When we visit my parents in Florida, she loves to catch lizards. She doesn't actually catch them with her hands, but uses bowls, lids, and whatever is handy. The last thing my mom wants is to have lizards in her house. That didn't stop my daughter. She brought the lizard into the house and dumped it into the kitchen sink. Her reasoning was the sides of the sink were too slick and the lizard couldn't get out. I guess she forgot the lizard she let loose in the sink was the same lizard that had just been crawling up a window on the side of the house. Needless to say, the lizard got loose in the house.
My daughters have always loved to hear stories about when they were younger. It is not uncommon (usually when they are grounded from all electronic devices) for us to be in the car and hear one of the girls say, “Will you tell me a story about me?” I know they like that I write about them, but I don't think it has sunk in that when I write a column there is a good chance a lot of people can read it. (I didn't say a lot of people read my columns, just a good chance for a lot of people to read them.)
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