The Snake Charmer

Reagan can be in the throws of a temper tantrum that would put any 2-year old to shame and then the doorbell rings.

She sits up, looks around, pops to her feet as quickly as she can and scurries to the door. I'm stumbling along behind her wondering why I put my pajamas back on after work and does my hair look ok despite the fact that I haven't washed it in three days and it's all slicked back in a pony tail?

It can be anyone--the UPS guy, a neighbor, friends dropping something by, a stray cat. Anyone.

Reagan knows what to do. She smiles and tilts her head just so. She pulls up her dress so the visitor has a full view of her bloomers in all their splendor. She waves her little fingers and says, "hi" and scrunches up her face in a huge smile. She runs to get toys to share. She twirls and demonstrates her knowledge of "Ring Around the Rosy." She's a ham.

Visitors are always, without fail, charmed to the max. They ooh and ahh and agree with her when she points to her shoes that they are in fact, the most beautiful pair of rhinestone-studded sneakers on the planet.

Then they leave. She's forgotten she was mad at me for insisting she eat something besides goldfish crackers. She doesn't remember that we can't find her hubba. All is well.

I'm thinking of setting up a rotation of sorts. UPS guy on Monday, Shannon on Tuesday, neighbor lady with plate of brownies on Wednesday and so on. They get charmed. Reagan's temper disappears and maybe it'll encourage me to bathe on a more regular basis. Everyone wins.