Hannah is an awesome kid. She's bright, enthusiastic, driven, incredibly funny in a very dry sort of way which I LOVE. I could go on and on. But...
Hannah is also a pest.
She has the innate ability to make peoplecrazy with the snap of her fingers. She knows just what makes people tick and exactly which buttons to push. That child can walk into a room where her sisters are peacefully busy and have all three of them in an uproar in 33.2 seconds. It's almost a gift, really.
After school the other day Hannah and I were sitting in my office reviewing a logic worksheet. She didn't "get it" so I was trying to explain it from yet another angle when I noticed she was looking over my shoulder and clearly not listening to what I was saying. I caught her attention, but rather than going back to the worksheet as I had hoped, we had this conversation:
Hannah: Hey mommy? What's a pest service?
KathyB!: (not paying full attention as I'm still trying to wrap my head around a good explanation for that stupid logic problem) You know... exterminators. They come out and get rid of the pests.
Hannah: What's a termite, mom?
KathyB!: (still not there) Seriously, Hannah?! It's a pest. There's a termite warranty on our house and every year the exterminator comes to make sure we don't have pests. You know... like termites.
Hannah: Um. I'm not a termite. Am I?
KathyB! Wha... no. NO! (lightbulb finally goes on) Hannah, termites are bad bugs - like fire ants. The exterminator comes... Why on earth would you think you're a termite. For Pete's sake, Hannah...
I followed Hannah's gaze to where this was sitting on my desk:
I'm thinking I need to stop calling her a pest before I land her in therapy.