The Red Menace

(This post was actually written Feb. 15, in a wee hour of the morning.)

 I was sitting here getting ready to ad my "Bokeh" picture to link up to

Tracys-Trinkets-and Treasures Bokeh Link Party

when it happened.

I have something in my house that I hate. 

I dislike using the word hate,

especially on Valentines Day;

especially after my previous post.

But it's not Valentine's Day anymore.

Nope.

It is now 1:37 am.

Yes, not Valentine's Day.

I don't like to "hate."

But I can't help it.

I just can't.

 No, it is not that I find incredible artwork

on my freshly cleaned bathroom mirrors

that appear

magically

when I least expect them.

 Nor is it the

constant discovery

of my

daughter's

annoying fascination

with planting

my

hair things

all

over

the house.

 Really.

Nor is it the endless supply

of

glitter.

Who,

 I beg of you,

is supplying

my child

with

this stuff?

'Fess up,

you glitter fiends.

 

And although it may seem logical,

it is not even the fact that my Que

on Netflix

has been overtaken by

Season 1,

Season 2,

Season 3,

Season 4,

Season 5,

and, yes,

even Season 6

of Daniel Boone.

Each of these SEASONS containing approximately 6 DISCS of 4 hours EACH

of

Daniel Boone.

(Thank you for the Christmas gift of a year of Netflix,

dear parents-in-law.

Perhaps I will get to see a movie

mid-November.)

 (I have developed such a love for Mingo (sarcasm),

and Daniel,

and the theme song 

that my children have firmly planted in their memories

and will spew forth

with random

loud

singing

at creative moments:

in the truck,

when I'm on the phone,

in the grocery store.

Ah,

2011:

the year of Daniel Boone.)

And, even though you might think so,

it is not the fact that my son has entered

a...

stage.

Exploratory, is it?

I find things:

 unusual things...

everywhere.

Someone has been rooting through my bathroom cupboard.

I think so.

 And in the refrigerator,

my food,

keeps

coming

out

with

ice

in

it.

My son has a sudden love for numbers,

especially certain ones,

and it doesn't matter what number is SUPPOSED to be the correct setting.

My dishes get washed

and

aren't clean

because they are on

the

light cycle

with

low energy.

Because all buttons

are fun to push

and change.

Exploratory.

No,

the thing that I hate...

screeches at me.

It makes it's presence known when I least expect it

sending me into a panic

that involves

hurried dashes through the house,

harmful leaping and

diving where there is no water

or cushions

or safety nets.

At precisely 1:34 am,

just a few minutes ago...

 I catapulted into my sons room

to attend to it,

yet again.

It is the Red Menace.

 No matter where I hide it,

it gets found,

 and set to ring...

at random, terrifying moments

about every 3 days,

just enough time to make me think

that they have finally gotten tired of doing this to me.

I reset it for a reasonable time,

turn the hands back to the right time,

and shut it off;

but somehow

it always,

ALWAYS

gets turned back to ring it's blood curdling alarm at some

strange hour

when all is quiet

and

asleep.

I cringe.

I stub my toes on unknown objects.

I fall up the stairs.

I jab my fingernail on the clock shut-off button.

I snarl at it when it's all over

and

bark

like one of the Three Stooges.

I need help.
Spiderman, you are not my hero.

And then I go back to my computer

start editing my pictures

and see this:
baby's new love,
and big sister's efforts to assist her:

 All is well again.

 
also linked to: It's A Very Cherry World: Rednesday

(Thank you to those who said such nice things about my love story.  I will post the next part to it next Monday.  My brain thinks slow, so I need to figure out how to write the ending to it.)