Finding a place

Houdini the hamster is gone. So are his escape artist friends. Only a quiet “wanna-be” remains in his wire cage.
The rest were sold after waking my daughter one night too many as they chewed, clawed and scraped their plastic palaces to escape.
Personally, I am glad to be rid of the night walkers.
With the plastic palaces gone, the princess discovered she had more space in her bedroom. She liked it – too much.
She began sorting through her collection of 59 trolls, selling, storing or giving away all but her favorites.
I gasped when I heard what had happened to the “gotta have” gift of recent years. But I bit my tongue; she could do with her gifts as she pleased.
But it wasn’t enough. She wanted room, more room.
She sorted through the collection of stuffed animals I had found at garage sales over the years. From the beginning I said, “these are mine, but you may keep them in our room.” She kept them, happily, until she began her quest for space. Then stuffed animals that fell into her disfavor were relegated to the attic and garage sale pile.
When I protested, she said, “You may keep them in your room.”
I left them in the attic.
Then her brothers began moving on with their and out of our home.
The youngest graduated from high school and into a college dorm along with our outdated computer, his CD collection and favorite fish.
The middle one yielded his cot in the laundry room, gave up his summer monopoly on the lounge chair with the best lighting, gathered up his clothes, computer and collection of books and returned to college.
the oldest married and took all the odds and ends of furniture we could spare.
Little sister looked around and saw space.
She began spreading out.
Two hours after the last brother left, she was stripping pictures, plaques and postrs from the boys’ bedroom wall. Two nights later, the cot was her bed.
The boy’s bedroom retains half of their bunk bed as well as a lounge chair, TV, VCR and tapes.Her bedroom is her official clothes, changing area where she stores her clothes, trolls and hamster (Yes! Only one!) and my stuffed animals.
The living room, minus a couple of lounge chairs, end tables and lamps has become her after-school catch-all and piano practicing chamber.
She eats breakfast in the kitchen and supper in the dining area.
The bathroom she used to share with three brothers is all hers, she invades my bathroom every morning to steam roll her hair after I have it steaming hot for my own use.
Even the master bedroom has been compromised: she considers our bed the best for late afternoon naps and my closet a source of variety for her already extensive wardrobe.
When I told my sons how much their sister had taken over the house, one wrote back, “try stringing barb wire where you don’t where you don’t want her to be.”
Sounds like a brotherly solution. If it gets any worse, this mother might try it.


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