fruit flies, giants & the like {letters to evie}

"hi mom!"  you say from your perch on the step, scribbler & pen in hand.
"hi evie, we draw just on paper right? just on paper... not on legs or the deck or anything else, just paper..."i say as i string along a wet load of laundry onto the line, pinning tiny shirts & shorts after close inspection.
the backyard thrums with the sound of a distant whipper-snipper. i continue folding the previous load of laundry now dry on my makeshift hot-tub folding table. i wonder if i should add a booster to the wash from now on.  these clothes are never going to make it to livi if i don't start making an effort.  i seriously need to teach them to learn to eat with a spoon, this is ridiculous, is that a whole banana coin dried to the back of that...
a shreik shatters the strategic laundry meeting in my head...
"A BUG! a bug mommy a bug!" you scream, fists clenched up to your ears & face scrunched as you wince to avoid the most certain demise as a teeny fruit fly flutters by totally oblivious.
"just say shoo bug, don't bother me!"  i instruct, knowing that if i don't teach you how to do it yourself, you'll never be able to be outside without your mother, the bug squasher, by your side.
"shoo bug! shoo bug! shoo you!"   you say with as much command as that tiny voice of yours can carry with your finger in the air like you mean it.
i peer down to notice that you have coloured in your knee with blue pen.
"evie! what did mommy say about colouring?"
you are distracted from the bug momentarily to explain your knee's misfortune.
"oh no! my knee... no colour my knee.  i stop it me!" you say now pointing that finger at me.
"oh no, is right.  no more pen evie.  all done."  you fuss, unhappy with reaping the consequences of your body art.
sigh. i look for another distraction before this fussing snowballs into a fit.
"evie, can you go get those pants?" i appeal to your love of helping, as i point to a pair of shorts that have flown off the line.
"sure! i do it mom.  i do it."  you say enthusiastically. "i be right back!" you say, pointing that little finger again.
"good girl evie.  thanks sweet heart."
you haven't even made it to the bottom step before another shriek, followed by a wince & a scramble back to the top of the stairs.  it would appear as though the little unassuming fruit fly is hovering above the very shorts you were asked to pick up. sigh. i gently encourage you back down the stairs with my hand on your back.
"that's it evie.  you just say, shoo bug, shoo in Jesus name."
"shoo bug & Jesus!"  you shout as you suddenly spring down the that step & march across the lawn with conviction, grab the shorts & point your little finger threateningly off the end of your nose. "shoo, i say!" you flip your hair in disgust as if to say how dare that bug try to intimidate me!
i am impressed.  speechless even.  swelling with pride. moments ago terrified of this microscopic organism being in your space to walking right up to the source of your fear & giving it heck.  so proud to witness this first moment of many, where you fight for your ground, where a warrior woman is born.  where you stand fast & dig deep inside to find courage & conviction & resolve to fight the good fight. where you run to the battle line to take what is rightfully yours. oh, this is a victory indeed.  it may have been a fruit fly today but it was a giant in your eyes & you cut him to the quick, looked him in the eye & stood your ground.  beware world.  evie joy nouvelle knows who she is.  she has a finger & she knows how to use it!


  1. huge smile! I love this post, and that little girl!

    you're doing a great job Sarah, I have a feeling I know where she learned this from ;)