Madge Monday

Madge has been the Queen of the Playdate lately. The phone list is off the wall and every afternoon she tries to learn a new number by heart as she dials away and asks if she can play with yet another friend.
It’s cute, really. And I allowed her to have an insight the other day, when I suggested something.
Her response was, “You mean I can have a playdate with a boy? Oh.”
Some fallout from the playdate-o-rama is that the cat has figured out the phone, to a degree. He has so far managed to get it off the hook a few times after it rang, and he has managed to change it from touch-tone to pulse dialing. How, I’m not quite sure.
She is missed, though, when she is gone. Most severely by Coco, but on the weekends also by Julie.
And now I feel guilty because I enjoy the extra bit of “quiet” time, though the last session backfired because Coco missed her too much and needed to be entertained the whole time.

And something – I believe it’s Christmas – is causing her to have sleepless nights. This does not bode well for the night of the 24th. I may have to introduce her to wonders of egg nog and whiskey. How else do you end up dreaming of sugarplum fairies?