Adventures of Pua

Yesterday, these goobers turned twelve. Hard to believe, I know, because the day before that they were just five.

One of the things Youngest had specifically requested as either a birthday or Christmas gift was a stuffed version of the pet pig from Moana. Middle loves ducks, as any longtime reader of this blog knows, but Youngest has a love for piggies that is nearly as big as Middle's love of duckies. (In fact, Youngest is beginning to have a hard time eating bacon and ham if she thinks about it too much. But I digress.)

I had, to her great delight, found the pig in question, whose name is Pua. Not only that, I'd found a good-sized one, and managed to have it delivered in time.

Because we can't have a birthday for my girls without a pig and a duck for their respective persons. (Hubby agreed, despite his groaning about why are we bringing in more stuffies when we're trying to get rid of the over abundance we have.)

Innyhoo.

This morning, while I huddled in my jammies under a fleecy blanket and monitored the time, Youngest had taken several minutes to carefully swaddle Pua in several blankets downstairs on the (ugly) green hide-a-bed couch in the den before she left for school.

I went to work without knowing about this.

I came home and lugged groceries inside, and was met by a goofily grinning Hubby.

"Youngest left Pua wrapped up in blankets in the den this morning," he said. "And Pua was bad."

I followed him to the den.

The blankets that had once surrounded Pua had been recklessly undone. A pair of Hubby's reading glasses perched on Pua's nose. A sleeve of crackers was tucked in next to the pig, with (of all things) a foam football behind them. On the other side of the pig, a bowl of what appeared to have been mashed potatoes was left with the spoon in it. (Eating in the den is verboten.) Pua's front feet clutched the remote for the TV, while the Roku remote sat carelessly nearby.

Having masterminded a series of Duckie escapades in the past, I chuckled.

And then I got on board.

I finished almost all of my diet Dr Pepper that I'd taken to work with me and tucked it in next to Pua, the sneaky thief who stole one of Momma's sodas too, in addition to all the other "crimes."

And after Hubby left for work and I changed my clothes, I turned on the TV, tuned into Netflix, went back a number of episodes, and set Pua up to be watching The Flash when the kids came home.

It was great.

I sat up in the living room, watching M*A*S*H and having a snack, when the girls got home about 3:15, grinning like a fool to myself. It didn't take long before the twins popped into the living room.


"Mom! Did you see what Dad did to Pua?" Youngest grinned from ear to ear.

I smiled. "I helped."

I can't wait to tell Hubby how well it played out.