I may have been a sheep dog in a former life. Or maybe I was a sheep who refused to be herded and this is payback. Whatever the reason, I find myself shepherding, herding, wolf staring, pulling pushing pleading an awful lot. Tripping over dogs, kids, cat. Waving my arms like I'm trying to land a plane. Or conduct and orchestra. Or move a mountain
The herding has games attached to it, what, as an attempt at being functional. The bed time herding is called sneaky crab, where I, the sneaky crab, try to pinch the girls as they run (delightfully, quick like bunnies) up the stairs (where they will need more herding into their pjs, the toothbrush will need to be herded into their mouths, the dog herded off the bed so we can read stories, etc etc.) S has taken this sneaky crab game to new levels, every time she goes upstairs she calls out "Tin-kee Cwab! Tin-kee Cwab, Mommy!" (Does she thing the game is stinky crab? SNEAKY crab, S!) But she doesn't hustle, as she's calling me a tin-kee cwab and I pinch her- as much as I think I could pinch her little legs all day, it does grow old after a while, when dinner is burning and dogs want to be fed and the phone is ringing... I have to heard harder. Today as this was playing out, H sighed from downstairs, "S! Sneaky crab is all about being QUICK!" I smiled. H is getting so big. I love that she plays along even though she knows I am herding her up the stairs.