When No Means: Steal It Anyway. Love, The Baby.

When you search your house, high and low, calling out for the MIA two year old…”Bella? Where are you? (Avayah, Adalynne, Amelia–have you seen your sister?) Bella, are you upstairs?”

No answer. You start to panic. “BELLLLLLLLA! ANSWER US!!!!!” As you run through the house, flipping over sofas, picking up beds with your pinky finger…

Suddenly, (after your heart has now taken residence in your stomach) you hear a little voice echo somewhere in the distance…”I here, Mother.”

Travis and I end up the dining room, yet find nothing, no two year old anywhere.

We hear it again…”I here, Mother.” Travis starts belly laughing, his eyes fetching a solid little mass behind the curtain in the dining room. He quickly whips back the curtain, nearly pulling the rod and brackets straight out of the wall in the process.

“What?” Bella usher’s out meekly.

Trav is now bent over, tears pouring out of eyes, his body racked with hysterical laughter as Bella stares up at her daddy with a carton of ice cream at her feet, two hands doubling as ice cream scoops, acting as innocent as baby Jesus. This kid, the baby. Lord help us.


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“What?  Dis, dis is nothing, Mama.  Whook away, jus whook away.”


 

Author: Sarah Black

I'm a self-professed 'Drama Mama'...of four daughters, I blog to (over)share my stories on learning to maintain my sanity by strictly eating laughter in the emotional land of motherhood while trying to keep my husband from running away from the sheer amount of estrogen flooding our house.

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