We all have have our quirks.
For me it's leaving half drunk glasses of water all over the house. It's not on purpose. Though I hold tight to the argument that someday we'll be attacked by aliens, just like that Mel Gibson movie. Rico will take a bat and start knocking a baker's dozen McDonald's Sweet Teas from the mantle, thereby saving not only us, but all of mankind. It could happen, but it's not like I do it entirely for altruistic purposes.
And then there's Rico - leaving dental floss hanging in the shower, which will also come in handy someday if a crazed ax murderer has us trapped in the bathroom, and we have to braid our own rope to shimmy down the second story window.
Punk will draw the same thing over and over until it's just right. He's probably felled a quarter mile of rainforest in his attempt to draw the perfect Batman and Joker. But still, I admire his need to perfect his craft, to not settle for anything less than awesome.
Kooka will change clothes approximately 4 times a day. This is not an exaggeration. On the downside, she rarely remembers what's clean, and ends up doing much more laundry than she should. On the upside - she always looks fabulous and helps the rest of us when we don't.
I'm always looking to put a positive spin on these little idiosyncrasies - trying to figure out how these little quirks can benefit our our family, our friends, the world in general.
But Yoda has me stumped.
Since birth she has been obsessed with necks. It is especially prevalent when she is sleepy, sick , or daydreaming. Sounds relatively harmless right? And I suppose it was when her little hands were the size of a Kennedy half-dollar, but now - my god, I'm lucky to be alive.
Imagine sleeping peacefully in your bed. It's still dark outside, you're still warm under the covers. You feel a little something move at the foot of the bed. You roll over, assuming it's just the dog looking for a fluffy spot to snuggle. Ninety seconds later you're being asphyxiated by a tiny hand constricting around your throat. But it's all good, because the entire time your jugular is being cut off, and your airway is being obstructed, a small voice is whispering in your ear "I love you so much."
It's like setting your alarm clock to Boston Strangler mode. And this happens every morning!!! Rico thinks it's funny. Ha ha ha.
When she gets into her lighting matches phase, we're flipping the bed around.