My mother-in-law visited this weekend from St. Louis. I actually really like her, so settle down if you were gearing up for a MIL tale of savagery. No, in fact, this is a tale of child-wrought zaniness…the kind only a 3 year old can deliver.
Linda, my mother-in-law, arrived at about 7 on Friday night. She is a very smiley, sweet woman who, when it comes to her grandchildren, is made of patience. I don’t know what happened to Ava, my 3-year-old, but when Linda walked in the door, she turned into a verbal stalker.
She grabbed Linda’s hand and gave her the grand tour of our smallish house (that Linda has already visited), narrating every nook, cranny and filthy plastic toy…
“This my dog. He wears a cone. DON’T GIVE HIM CHOCOLATE!!!!” Linda nods and promises not to give the dog chocolate. “I love Hilary and Sloane but I don’t like Jaden because he throws the balls over the fence!”
Every now and then, Ava would turn to me and say, “What’s her name?” I’d tell her, apologize to Linda, and Ava would go right on talking.
She kept at it for about 10 minutes–10 solid minutes of 3-year-old non sequiturs. It’s an accomplishment. Then she stopped mid-sentence, looked up at Linda and said, “There are no zombies in Seattle, right?”
That’s right. There are no zombies in Seattle.