Better Safe Than....a Sorry Sewing Machine

As expected, BSD's recent brilliant idea turned out to be a bust. The foot pedal on that cute little sewing machine didn't work. At all. So, back it went to Joann's Santa's workshop. In BSD's defense, however, he did score major points for another gift he bought.

If you remember, the Little Ballerina likes to steal borrow things. Especially things that belong to her older sister. This borrowing inevitably leads to crying, which leads to screaming, which leads to hitting, which leads to throwing things, which leads to doors slamming, which leads to headaches, which leads to the Mean-Ass Woman searching the Want Ads for any excuse to get the hell out of the house.

In an effort to prevent this vicious cycle, BSD bought the Big Ballerina a safe for Christmas. Together, they stashed all of the Big Ballerina's valuables in the safe. In went her earrings, her DS, and most importantly, her gum. Then, they searched until they found the perfect hiding place for the key. Behind a little flower-shaped mirror hanging above her bed. Genius.

"Momma, what does the key to BB's safe look like again?" the Little Ballerina asked me this morning after Kindergarten, while her big sister still had 3 hours of school to go.

"It's just a key."

"I know, but I just want to see it because I can't remember what it looks like," she tried.

"You don't need to know what it looks like. It's not yours," I reminded her.

"I know. I just want to see it," she pleaded.

"Sorry, sweetie."

"It's hanging on a ribbon, isn't it? I think that ribbon might be mine," she said, trying a new angle.

"Sorry, sweetie. It's hidden and I don't know where," I lied, eager to end the interrogation.

Exasperated, she wandered off to the playroom to play with her new Barbies.

Or so I thought.

Tonight, as I was tucking the Big Ballerina into bed, I glanced down at the ugly, black safe on her floor. Scattered around the big metal box were my car keys, the key to the neighbor's house that we keep for emergencies, and two of the "mock keys" that we store above the bedroom doors so we can gain access if we get locked out.

As I gathered the keys, I wondered how long the Little Ballerina sat there desperately trying to jimmy each one into the lock. Praying that one of them was the magic key. That one of them would pop open that safe like a Jack-in-the-Box showering her in an endless stream of Hubba Bubba.

And, since that didn't happen. I wonder how many more questions about the key I'm going to be able to handle before I decide that flipping burgers at ....

... is a good thing to be when I grow up.


* Day 5 and I've still taken a picture every day. I know it's a lame photo, but I was desperate to take a picture of something today. I wish there were some clouds with a ray of sunshine streaming through in that shot to go along with the story.