There has been even more drama than normal in the Cooper Clubhouse this morning.
(I know, I know, it's almost impossible to even visualize.)
That's Geordi La Forge, a character from Star Trek, the Next Generation, lovingly depicted as an Iron Bead Thang (IBT) by one Jane Cooper, 8.
As she was carrying it upstairs so that I could iron it, her older sister came out of a bedroom unexpectedly, thus startling poor Janie and causing her to spill the un-ironed IBT all over the upstairs hallway.
To say there were tears and recriminations and apologies and more tears and sobbing and much rending of garments and accusations and wailing and dismay and EPIC CRYING AND SCREAMING would be an understatement.
So, we sat in the hallway upstairs and tried to recreate Geordi, accompanied by the hiccuping sureness of Jane that we would never, ever, EVER get it as good as it was the first time and we should just give up already and I told the girls the following story:
Once, when I was about the same age as Jane is now, I had filled a large cup with milk and was walking through our house to my bedroom. (This was technically a violation of the No Food or Beverages in Our Bedrooms Rule, instituted by my poor beleaguered mother after I ate a peach and then stuffed the wet and still peachy pit UNDER MY MATTRESS where it eventually became a new life form.) My older sister was coming down the hallway from the other direction and ran SMACK into me, knocking the glass out of my hand and creating the biggest milk tidal wave ever seen in Dallas, Texas.
I stood there, shaking in fury (as only the mother of one Jane Cooper can shake in fury,) and then I said the very, most awful, totally worst thing I could think of.
My sister, seven years older and, although covered in milk, acutely conscious of the small furious dignity of the girl standing in front of her, wisely did not laugh.
(Not then, anyway.)
The puppy took all drama this morning in stride.
(Gratuitous puppy picture, brought to you by Becca.)