One half of my world,

There is a certain force of nature that no man can conquer, that no mere mortal can subdue, which has an undeniable 6th (or 7th or 8th) primal sense that knows when I have an urgent task at hand.

This allows it the advantage of absolute chaos and disruption and makes me completely helpless when ever I attempt to sit at my computer to work or play.

Through some devious psychic means, my intelligence and focus are sucked right from my brain as it chirps and emits noises that the angels understand, but of which my poor feeble ears strain to make sense of.

It assumes the immediate possession of any pencil, pen, paper, paperclip, tape roll, pair of glasses, piece of paper, picture, book, actually anything that isn't nailed down, without thought of purpose or value, present or future, except for its own immediate use and gains control of my attention rendering me inept for the task that I was trying to accomplish.

I try to maintain my thoughts while verbally protesting that it is making a huge mess that I alone will have to clean up, but little appendages fly to and fro all the faster, and what once was nice, neat and orderly, is now strewn to four corners making this creature squeak with delight.

A master of diversion, before I realize what has transpired, my books are strewn and my once clean floor is littered with the debris of items formerly on my desk that were used in a wild session of abandon with scissors and paper. His voice is raised and he is pulling on my sleeve to gain my attention so that I might give approval and praise for the act of destruction that he has just accomplished.

His mission is complete, and I am left drained and frustrated, my face is a screwed mess of emotion while still trying to maintain my composure and I'm ready to let out a howl that would make wolves jealous, but then he lifts his sweet little face to me and says... 'gramma...G R A M M A! ...Can I have some ice cream?'

Oh glorious moment, I believe I feel a smile faintly forming on my face, and as I exhale I utter those 4 magic words, "go ask your father". Before I draw my next breath, what do I hear but those little feet thomping toward the kitchen, toward his next unsuspecting captive. Finally! I am mistress of my domain again, even if only for the moment, and I think, that I have started my blog!