Once, long, long ago when Lucy was 2 and a half and I was really grouchy and pregnant with Tennessee, she went through a brief phase in which she created The Pile. It was infuriating. She would take every last article of clothing from her drawers and put it in a pile in the middle of her floor. Along with the clothes there was every last book from her shelf, every last toy from her toy bins and every stitch of linen from her bed. All of this piled in the middle of her room. The first time it happened, I found her sitting on her pile triumphantly. I was a wee bit shocked, not to mention the constant general nausea that accompanied my every waking pregnant moment. I may or may not have yelled the stupidest question any parent ever asks, "What the heck where you thinking?!"
The second time it happened Lucy was sorry she had done it, but you could tell there was an element of compulsion to the whole thing. Like she couldn't not make The Pile if she tried. That Pile, and all subsequent Pile's she was made to help me put everything away. She got over it after a three week period. I had put it out of my mind for the most part, other than to regale my poor friends with the story when there is a gap in the conversation large enough for me to cram in a darling factoid about my blessed off-spring.
Today I cleared the calendar and turned down any social opportunities and we flopped around the house enjoying each others company and bickering. Well, Kenneth and I enjoyed each other's company and the kids bickered. At one point, the bickering stopped. Lucy sat at the kitchen table gluing, or taping wads of paper to egg cartons, or making the tallest glitter tower known to man, or some such glorious craft project she cooked up, and Wally was quietly playing upstairs. Quietly, that is, except for the sound of his sisters dresser drawers opening and closing. After a bit, curiosity won and I climbed the stairs to see what our little rascal was up too. I will tell you what he was up too (inhale, exhale, live in the moment), that little so and so was making The PILE! He had the same guilt/thrill look on his face that his sister did two years ago. I was so mad Kenneth sent me downstairs. A little vacuuming a' la ipod helped me clear my head and lighten up. While I was vacuuming I started thinking, what if it is a poltergeist? What else explains that sort of organized destruction? I am calling Ghost Busters. Finally my dream of meeting Bill Murray will come true...
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