… I don’t smell like a rotten egg.
This has been a recurring game that Leah Rose and I have been playing for a while. I know Leah loves me, she tells me so all the time, and I’m always getting sweet hugs. But, when we get around Grandmother or Big Brother, I’m chopped liver. When we all go out to eat together, the big decision is who is she going to sit by. I’m never one of the candidates for a table buddy, it’s always Grandmother and Brother. I am NOT jealous, uh huh, no way. She has secrets to share, and shares them with Grandmother. I am NOT jealous, uh huh, no way. When we are all walking together, she wants to hold Grandmother’s or Brother’s hand, not mine. I am NOT jealous, none. whatsoever. It’s a new word and new emotion for her, and she hasn’t quite figured out what it mean yet. I’m waiting for the day when the light bulb comes on. Should be priceless.
The other game we have all played at some time or other in our childhood… “Last one there is a rotten egg!”. I have heard that so much lately it’s starting to become a chant in my head. Since my mother had her hip surgery two years ago, she walks even more slowly than usual, and to get Leah in the car in a reasonable amount of time… she takes the long route around, circling all the bushes, and running down all the sidewalks… we would tell her “Let’s see who can get in the car and get buckled in first”. Leah would take the bait. It never failed. After a while, I noticed I was always the last one getting in the car and buckled in. I would respond with a lot of muttering and grumbling under my breath.
Now, I’m the rotten egg. Grandmother and Leah are a “team”. So it doesn’t matter what I do, I’m always going to be the “rotten egg”. And I’m not jealous. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.