Mood Doll Mystery
The weekend dumped rain. Our tiny red house held six kids. Wind blew, rain slashed the windows. Martin and I sat on little chairs in the tiny, tiny kitchen and listened to the kids eat at the table.
Monopoly. Endless clean-ups. Lots and lots of feeding the children at the red table's trough. Plenty of noise.
By the time three of the six left, my patience was shot to H, E, double hockey sticks. It was not a pretty sight. I had to sit at the table and stare at the tall pines bending under the wind. Then Martin and I locked the kids in the house and went for a walk in the gale. Equilibrium almost returned, we reached home in time to read to the kids before bedtime.
I noticed last night as I was struggling with my temper that my childhood mood doll had been inexplicably turned to ANGRY. (People should not fool with my mood doll.) My mood doll is a hunk of painted ceramic with three sides. The broad face framed by brown braids either smiles, frowns, or cries. Its blue eyes are surprisingly expressive.
A few months ago, at the end of summer, I slogged through this longish period of sadness. I tried to exercise patience; I tried to explain it to myself; I tried to be brave and conquer it. It just lasted, as sadness does sometimes. Near the end of it, I realized that my mood doll had been turned to sad; a huge tear ran down the china face.
Now, I am not superstitious, but I ask you, what's up with the mood doll? The main question I'd like answered? Does the mood doll turn first, and then I follow suit, or the other way around?
Monopoly. Endless clean-ups. Lots and lots of feeding the children at the red table's trough. Plenty of noise.
By the time three of the six left, my patience was shot to H, E, double hockey sticks. It was not a pretty sight. I had to sit at the table and stare at the tall pines bending under the wind. Then Martin and I locked the kids in the house and went for a walk in the gale. Equilibrium almost returned, we reached home in time to read to the kids before bedtime.
I noticed last night as I was struggling with my temper that my childhood mood doll had been inexplicably turned to ANGRY. (People should not fool with my mood doll.) My mood doll is a hunk of painted ceramic with three sides. The broad face framed by brown braids either smiles, frowns, or cries. Its blue eyes are surprisingly expressive.
A few months ago, at the end of summer, I slogged through this longish period of sadness. I tried to exercise patience; I tried to explain it to myself; I tried to be brave and conquer it. It just lasted, as sadness does sometimes. Near the end of it, I realized that my mood doll had been turned to sad; a huge tear ran down the china face.
Now, I am not superstitious, but I ask you, what's up with the mood doll? The main question I'd like answered? Does the mood doll turn first, and then I follow suit, or the other way around?
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