Imitation is the Highest Form of Flattery

We took a trip to MN a few weeks ago. I had a workshop in Duluth so Kjella stayed with Grandpa and Grandma Kelley. All went well until the second weekend when we were headed over to see Grandpa and Grandma Stenehjem and David was flying in to meet us. As I recall, the story went something like this …

Kjella and I were driving along highway 14 and Kjella was in total melt-down mode. After a week of travel the poor thing was very tired and was having a hard time going potty. Low and behold there was a cemetery on the side of the road. I could pull over and Kjella could get out of the car and go for a little walk. Creepy? Maybe. But at this point it was the cemetery or bust.

We pull into the cemetery and as soon as we get out of the car, my phone rings. It was my mom.

Mom, ‘Hi. What are you doing?’

Me, ‘Going for a walk in a cemetery.’

Mom, ‘I just got home and I’m emptying the dishwasher.’ (Note that she didn’t find it strange that we were going for a walk in a cemetery).

Me, ‘Ummmm… that’s nice. Did you call me to tell me you are emptying the dishwasher?’ (Obviously there was an ulterior motive. Daughters know these things).

Mom, ‘No. I’m calling you to tell you what I FOUND in the dishwasher.’ (She is giggling at this point so I’m really starting to wonder what it is that I did … ).

Me, ‘Screaming child here mom. Cut to the chase.’ Then she drops the bombshell.

Mom, ‘Dolly. I found DOLLY in the dishwasher.’

Me, (Sharp intake of breath) ‘WHAT!? DOLLY! OMG! YOU HAVE TO BE FREAKIN’ KIDDING ME! WHY DOLLY!? ANYONE BUT DOLLY!’ (Waves of panic wash over me). ‘How could I not notice that DOLLY was in the dishwasher?’

You know what they say about toddlers imitating their parents. Well, go figure. They aren’t lying. I was cleaning up the kitchen and putting dishes in the dishwasher and Kjella was just following in my footsteps. Of course, I was in too much of a hurry packing up to notice that she had stuck Dolly in there …

Mom, ‘Do you want us to drive her over to Rochester?’

Me (slight hesitation), ‘Nooooo … don’t be ridiculous. Just send her in the mail.’

Now this is the logical side of my brain saying this. Logically, I know that my parents do not need to spend 4 hours of a perfectly good Saturday driving to Rochester to drop off Dolly for my 14-month-old daughter. However, the emotional side of my brain was saying ‘Just say yes! You know they would do it in a heartbeat. They would do anything for another chance to see Kjella. What are you going to do when Kjella is crying for Dolly when she goes to bed?‘

While my brain was trying to decide if I should be logical or emotional, it suddenly dawned on me that I was more prepared than I thought. I had brought along the B Team: Froggy, Ducky, and Bunny and it was time they step up to the plate and show me what they are made of.

To make a long story short, the B Team did a fabulous job and Dolly was able to go on a little adventure of her own. Kjella was SOOOO excited the day Dolly arrived in the mail that it was almost worth the stress of having her gone for a few days. All is well that ends well.

Oh, and a little side note for any of you traveling with young children - the walk around the cemetery worked wonders – it really scared the crap out of Kjella! (Seriously .... where DO I come up with this stuff? Sometimes I kill myself!)

The Famous Dolly (poor thing - had to be a bit of a traumatic experience ... )

The 'B Team' - Froggy, Ducky and Bunny (super original names that we came up with hey?)

Some pics of Miss Kjella Bea in MN!

-- Post From Kate