Fox in the Hen House

Tuesday, October 4, 2005

(7:32am) Linnea’s birthday was coming up quickly. She had been counting down for at least six months, and now she had only three days to wait. The spunky little girl with the freckles and missing front tooth – it was too cute.

Collette arrived at home greeted first by Frances with his gun on the road, (who then hitched a ride to the driveway), and then by the gang who were eating eggs and toast for breakfast.

“Collette, look at my new bronzer,” Rose said proudly. “It was baked on an Italian tile in Italy.”

Cool thought. Meanwhile, Carrie was still sighing over Trenton.

“Oh, he’s so hot. Something just made me turn my head around at the concert. I just knew he was there.” She sighed and rolled her eyes dreamily.

And then she thought about all the school work she had to do and made some angry eyes. “I have like twenty papers to write this week, guys,” she grumped.

And so she commenced to design a new tattoo on the white board.

Elizabeth called soon, however, and was answered by Carrie with a, “Seriously, I have like 75 papers to write today. It’s not even funny.”

“Arghh!” Rose exclaimed from the kitchen that morning, as she looked into the pantry, “We can’t tell Mom about any more cereal sales! Ohhhhhh!”

She stared despondently at the row of Total boxes still stacked on the shelves.

Around lunch time, there was a call for help from the dining room.

“Mom, Rose messed up my clown picture!” Linnea called, calmly.

Rose came back into the kitchen, flailing her arms for no particular reason and grabbed another ham and cheese cracker.

“Rose,” Mom sighed, trying to be patient, crossing her arms, “you know the fox is there because the chickens and roosters are squealing for their lives. Rose, you are the fox in the hen house.”

“No, I’m not.” Rose insisted and ran out the patio door to go chase something, no doubt.