Broken lights

by Katie on August 7, 2014

We had a crazy few days of monsoon activity out here last weekend. Most of them hit during the late evening/night, but one came through in the late afternoon. It all happened while Leyton and I were inside the grocery store. I’ll tell you, it’s a strange thing to go make the trek into the grocery store doors in the blazing hot sun with nary a lick of moisture in the air, only to exit to rain puddles and a cool-ish after-rain breeze.

Anyway, because of the fast and furious nature of said rainstorm, we returned home (with a car full of groceries to put away, might I add) to a power outage. Thankfully, supper had cooked the day away in the trusty crockpot, so that wasn’t a problem, and the sun was making it’s way back out, so we opened all the curtains to let enough light in to see around the house. I served Leyton her supper at her little table in the kitchen, which seemed to have the most light. Apparently, Leyton is not a fan of the ambience created by a dimly lit dining experience, because she kept looking up, pointing, and saying, “Ights on? Ights on?” (“ights” is “lights” in this house).

Not quite sure how to explain a power outage to a just-turned-18-month-old, I eventually came up with telling her the lights were broken, since we had learned the word broken from this little experience.

After several minutes of her repeating, “Bro-pen ights…bro-pen ights…” we were finally able to move on from that subject.

But apparently, that little lesson stuck with her. Because this morning, like most mornings, I turned off the lights in the kitchen when I went to go get her up. For some reason, she is super sensitive to lights, especially when she wakes up. I call it her “blind rat” move in the morning. She leaves her room stumbling around, usually falling a few times, with her arms flailing around and her eyes tightly shut to keep the light out, hollering, “Gunk! Gunk!” (Milk.) It’s quite the treat to experience every day.

But again, I digress.

This morning, I was on top of things, and had her milk and breakfast already waiting on her little table. She found her way there and began gulping down her milk and nibbling at some eggs. When she finally had her eyes fully open, she got my attention, then looked and pointed up, saying, “Ights bro-pen. Bro-pen ights?”

When it finally dawned on me what she was talking about (apparently she has a better memory than I do), I turned on the lights for her. Because we like a well-lit dining experience around here.


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