I  don’t know all the details, but I was doing laundry and unloading clean dish towels on this ottoman when I found my husband using it as a makeshift “time out chair.” Apparently Lucy had channeled Reagan from the Exorcist when he gently declined her invitation to eat what was left of her questionably moist crackers. Like a grandma who just got her peanut butter cookies rebuffed, one thing led to another …

But then something unexpected happened and I needed to be revived with smelling salts. Poppy moseyed over to her, climbed the timeout ottoman of doom – and comforted her. The fact Poppy had tried to pluck out Lucy’s eyes with Barbie’s foot just moments earlier was a thing of the past and she’ll thank you to stop bringing up old sh*t.

We all need a Poppy, don’t we? When we mess up huge, they climb into the mess we made, with us. No judgment. They just wait out our tears, rub our backs and when the snot has dried, they encourage us to get into even more trouble by playing in the clean laundry.

I mean, she still might shank you with a Barbie foot if you cross her later. She ain’t Mother Theresa.

 

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