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Monday, April 2, 2007

I’m Not Wearing My Brat

You might be tempted after reading the above title to believe that I am talking about the short person.

And in fact, you'd be right, but only partially.

It just so happens that I'm talking about something totally different. Something that took me quite some time to decipher, and something totally unexpected.

The other day I was lying on the couch, tired and unwilling to move even though the kids were climbing all over me. Short person had the best perch just below my belly button while the other had my legs. My eyes were closed but I was doing the wonderful "is it bedtime yet?" glance at the clock every few seconds.

"Hey Mom... are you wearing your brat?" My daughter asked in a highly curious tone.

I peered up at her from beneath my arm which was shielding all matters of light from my eyes. "My brat?"

"Yeah. You need your brat to sleep. Are you wearing it?"

Some day, when my daughter has had time to practice facial expressions, I am going to pay for the looks of utter confusion I give her. "I'm sorry, Honey, but... my brat? What's... my brat?"

"You know, your BRAT. You have to wear it to be comfortable."

"I... don't... know. Do I usually wear a brat?" My mind is racing. All I wear to bed is pj's so does she mean a hat? A scrunchy? Is it jewelry... we'd just had a conversation about earrings... maybe?

"Yes. You do."

"Okay. Am I wearing a brat now?"

My daughter sighs that exasperated sigh of three-year-olds everywhere that signals that they think they've surpassed you in knowledge and give me a break I'm only three! Rolling her eyes at me (which she is getting quite good at) she responds. "I don't know. I asked you. Are you wearing your brat. You need to wear it to sleep."

Again, my face, total and utter confusion.

Short person sighs and looks at me. "Mom, you need to wear your brat to sleep. Here, let me check and see if you have it on."

With this, she proceeds to lift my shirt high into the air and peer underneath. "Nope. No brat."

Someday... someday... when she is 15 or 16, her and I are going to have a chat about brats.

And maybe one about flashing the neighbors too.

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