My sister's cat had kittens about six and a half weeks ago, they are not gonna be hanging around her house for much longer. She hopes. Which, by the way, if you live in Utah Valley and want a darling wee kitty for free (even comes spayed for free)... drop me an email. There are two left. I promised the Sis, I'd do my part to find homes for the fuzzies.
That was my part, the end.
We will never have a cat, as Dadguy is horrifically allergic to 'em; we make do with visiting OPK. Other People's Kitties. So this morning the girls and I were all loaded in the van, flying down the freeway to visit the short-timers. I was trying to listen to my favorite playlist with the volume turn low, and only the front speakers engaged. I do this because Birdie loves my playlist and rock n' roll in general, and if she hears it, she will ask me to turn on the back speakers. But she insists on having it loud and LaLa does not approve. In fact LaLa will scream bloody murder that the music "HOOTS MAH EE-AHS!" The fact that she screams it five or six decibels louder than the volume of music, doesn't seem to make much difference to her. Logic and three year olds; or should I say logic and LaLa. Hmph.
To be fair, LaLa came out of the womb with a strong preference in music. Unfortunately, that preference does not include my singing. One of her first words ever was "No!" and it was in response to me singing. When that didn't do the trick, she moved on to "THTOOOOOOOOP!"
This morning though, Birdie was thinking.
"Mama.... I have two moms and two dads huh?"
"No baby, you have one mom and one dad."
"But I have two Grandma's and two Grandpa's?"
"Yup, one set's from Daddy, and one from me."
"But I also have Grandma Duke?"
"Yes," I said, "you have Grandma and Grandpa Duke, but they are your GREAT Grandparents."
"Oh. Yeah and Grandma Francis."
Driving and thinking how sad I am that my girls will never know my own Grandparents, especially my maternal GP's, Granny and Pa. My Granny died when Birdie was just barely two, and her sweetheart, Pa, went a short nine months later. I loved my Granny.
"Plus my Granny and Pa, and my Grnadma and Grandpa B, but they are all dead." I say to her.
"Oh! Yeah, I remember Granny!" she squeals.
"You do?" This surprises me. Thinking she has a specific memory I ask, "what do you remember about Granny?"
I remember how she looks and I remember her voice when she speaks!"
"How do you remember that?"
"The Holy Ghost helps me to remember how she sounds. I remember her!"
"That's wonderful baby... I am so glad you can remember." I swallow past the tight spot in my throat; I blink rapidly to see the road. I miss my Granny, but I can remember too.