Last night Keelan decided she was going to sleep downstairs on the rug in the living room.
No one knows why and this is good with us.
So she is lying there reading on the rug that was vacuumed two days ago and she announces that she is going to vacuum it if she is going to sleep down here.
I certainly am not going to complain.
So she goes to the broom closet that doubles as a coat closet in the foyer, (Have I ever mentioned that my house was designed by a man?), and stands there for a minute looking in. She then reaches in and grabs something and pulls it out.
HalfAsstic Daughter: “Is this the vacuum?”
Me… dying laughing and a tad distressed at the question, “YES!” I mean how bad is THAT? Of course it’s not the upstairs vacuum and it is also in there with a steam mop and carpet sweeper but, DAY-UM! “IS THIS THE VACUUM?” is NOT something you want to hear your 18 year old daughter ask you.
So shoving the feelings of inadequate parenting aside, I ribbed her unmercifully for a moment or two and she giggled good naturedly.
She also picked up her cell phone immediately and began texting what had happened to J, her new boyfriend. I told her not to let him know she can’t identify a vacuum cleaner and she promptly replied, “As long as HE knows what a vacuum looks like, we’re golden.”
I take it he will be doing the vacuuming in her daydreams of the future.