Autumn At Oak Hollow

Last night Nathan and I retired to the basement to watch the second half of Avatar with its death, destruction and tragic deforestation.  It was pretty loud in some parts and I was so completely engrossed in the story that I forgot about the load of towels I had in the wash.  I also did not hear what was going on upstairs while my heart was bleeding for the Na’vi.

After the movie was over, I went into the laundry room to load up the dryer when I heard water running somewhere in the house.  The sound was unmistakable.  I could hear the hum of a faucet and the rush of water running down through the pipes.  I went upstairs expecting to see Autumn awake and in the process of some water-related shenanigans.  Mind you, it was after 11:00 pm, a time when shenanigans of any kind are not tolerated. The kid needs her sleep.

And asleep she was. Sound asleep with half her body falling off the bed.  The bathroom door was closed, and when I opened it I discovered a running faucet, a sopping wet bath mat and a ruined compact of Physician’s Formula pressed powder sitting in the sink.

At this point your guess as to what went on is as good as mine.

I was livid. I had left Autumn in her room at 9:00, and given that some water-related shenanigans took place after I left her, I figured that faucet ran for at least an hour and a half.  An hour and a half of wasted water. Dozens of gallons of wasted water. And how ironic that happened while we watched a movie that is essentially a vehicle created to slap you in the face with its environmental conscience. Gah!

My inquiry this morning was for naught. I may as well have asked the child where crop circles come from or if Tom Cruise really is gay for all the answers she provided when I asked her what happened after I went downstairs.

She doesn’t know.

*Sigh*

Of course she doesn’t.

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Today Autumn wanted to wear a tank dress we recently purchased from Target. It’s a feminine little getup complete with layered skirt, multi-hued butterflies and chocolate milk stains. She likes the dress a lot and has worn it the past two Wendesdays while out to dinner with my mom and dad.

I bought a knit purple shrug to go with the dress. Autumn is not down with the shrug. Even though it’s a wonderful complement to the dress and she looks adorable in it, she tears it off as soon as she sees me pull out of the school parking lot. I know she does this because the first day I made her wear the thing I saw her whip it off and toss it onto a bench on the playground. She probably would have lit it on fire and stomped out the flames with a tribal yell if she could have. That’s how much she hates it.

Nevertheless, I tried to coax her into the shrug again this morning. It’s so cute. You need to stay warm. Blah blah blah. No go, but since it was just barely 40 degrees outside, I felt some parental responsibility to get her to wear something over the dress.

The thing is we’d already had quite a morning with her that included a lecture about defacing library books and a breakfast tantrum that resulted in the loss of both fork and stool privileges.  And while it was amusing to see my child sit on the floor, reach up to the kitchen island and bat at her plate of waffles and sausage while wailing “I can’t reach my food! I can’t reach my fooood!” I had pretty much reached my limit.

Just before we left I tried once more to get Autumn to wear a sweater or jacket over the dress but she again refused.  At that point I didn’t argue and decided to have faith that she would come around once she set foot outside and felt how cold it actually was.

But this is my kid we’re talking about here and she happily walked over to the car, opened the door and slipped into the back seat without so much as a shiver.

And being the mature parent I am, I slipped into the front seat, turned the key in the ignition and cranked up the air conditioning.

We had just pulled out of the driveway when Autumn said, “Mom, can you roll up the window?”

“The windows are up, sweetie,” I said.

“Oh. It’s kind of cold in here.”

“Is it? Well maybe you should have worn a sweater.”

“No, then I’d be too hot.”

And there she sat, happy as a clam in her little tank dress, the sun keeping her warm while I shivered in the front seat with the AC blowing cold air up the sleeves of my jacket.  A couple of times she asked me to put the heat on, but other than that she gave no indication she was at all uncomfortable.

Most importantly, she did not give me the thing I wanted most.

You were right, Mom. I should have worn a sweater.

Child 1: Parent 0.

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