Ride 'em cowgirl!
Funny story from this weekend...
M and I were making dinner in the kitchen (where we usually make dinner, it's so convenient and all) and Zozo was doing her usual thing of playing all around the house, wandering here and there, doing this and that. She'd reappear every once in awhile holding something new (her favorite strand of green plastic pearls, Hoot the Owl, the hat from her baby doll, one of the cat toys), show us, and then wander off.
One time she left, though, and didn't come back. Repeated calls to her elicited no response. Uh oh. When she's gone and quiet, it's usually not a good thing.
M and I looked at each other, and he said, "I'll go." He headed back towards her bedroom after a quick glance told him she wasn't in the dining room or library.
Out he came, shaking his head and holding a very satisfied-looking Zozo.
Apparently she had climbed up on her rocking ottoman and was, in M's words, "Riding it like a bucking bronto."
She got pretty peeved when we wouldn't let her do that any more, and downright pissed when I pulled her off for the last time. I was putting away a small stack of clothes and she took the opportunity to scramble up and go for another ride. Pulling her off was a major endeavor, as she knew what was coming and clamped down on the sides like a tick on a hound dog.
M and I frequently look at each other and say, "Do you remember when we'd stick her in the bouncy seat and she'd just sit there?!"
M and I were making dinner in the kitchen (where we usually make dinner, it's so convenient and all) and Zozo was doing her usual thing of playing all around the house, wandering here and there, doing this and that. She'd reappear every once in awhile holding something new (her favorite strand of green plastic pearls, Hoot the Owl, the hat from her baby doll, one of the cat toys), show us, and then wander off.
One time she left, though, and didn't come back. Repeated calls to her elicited no response. Uh oh. When she's gone and quiet, it's usually not a good thing.
M and I looked at each other, and he said, "I'll go." He headed back towards her bedroom after a quick glance told him she wasn't in the dining room or library.
Out he came, shaking his head and holding a very satisfied-looking Zozo.
Apparently she had climbed up on her rocking ottoman and was, in M's words, "Riding it like a bucking bronto."
She got pretty peeved when we wouldn't let her do that any more, and downright pissed when I pulled her off for the last time. I was putting away a small stack of clothes and she took the opportunity to scramble up and go for another ride. Pulling her off was a major endeavor, as she knew what was coming and clamped down on the sides like a tick on a hound dog.
M and I frequently look at each other and say, "Do you remember when we'd stick her in the bouncy seat and she'd just sit there?!"
posted by Amy at 3:40 PM
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