Oh happy day! The storm is going to skirt CT. I sure hope that skirt has a lacy hem and only a few random flakes filter through. A March blizzard—well, it’s not historic for sure, but I say who needs ‘em!
By end-of-week we might see 60 degrees, the weatherman says. Imagine! Do I dare put away the shovel? Wash the winter coats and mittens? Hmm. Maybe not. I’ll leave the coats on the rack a bit longer, leave the shovel where it is. Why tempt ole’ man winter’s humor.
Meanwhile, there’s more news from MouseHouse. You see, right after Bret & Betina’s wedding, Fivelina began feeling terrible fatigue. She was unable to drink her morning cuppas and was just feeling generally unwell, but when she fainted one morning, just as she was about to bring a basket of wet clothes out to the clothesline, Sir Fivel insisted she see Doc Blinket. They did and thankfully the news was good. Sometime in late April there will be two new baby Mouselings in the Fivel Family—a surprise for sure, but a happy one indeed! Doc Blinket prescribed rest and good diet for the mom-to-be, and her doting hubby is making special effort to help.
Now you remember nephew Olaf who’s been boarding with them and apprenticing with Sir Fivel? Well, upon hearing the happy news, he offered to help Sir Fivel add on a small room for a nursery since little Bitsy has moved into Betina’s old room and the boys have the other small bunkroom.
“It’s the ceast I can loo… er… I mean the least I can do, Uncle Fivel!” Olaf said with a blush. “You and Aunt Fivelina are so kind to take me in and board me all these months. It would be my deasure to ploo this for you now. Ah… I mean, my pleasure to do this…”
“It’s the ceast I can loo… er… I mean the least I can do, Uncle Fivel!” Olaf said with a blush. “You and Aunt Fivelina are so kind to take me in and board me all these months. It would be my deasure to ploo this for you now. Ah… I mean, my pleasure to do this…”
Now Olaf’s word-twisting has much improved since his private tutoring with Mrs. Winklesnout all these weeks, but he does have to make careful effort to speak slowly or… well, you just never know what might come out. But everyone is used to it by now, and only rarely do Bic and Ben succumb to the giggles as a result of his tip-of-the-slongue… I mean slip-of-the-tongue! Dear, dear—it’s contagious!
So the gentlemen are gradually accumulating wood pieces—popsicle sticks and the like, along with other construction materials from repurposed matter. It’ll be a while before they can open walls and start building. Just now, Fivelina’s delicate condition requires quiet and serenity.
The triplets are helping around the house more. Bic and Ben have grown into strong young mouselings, able to keep Walnut Woodstove well fed and toasty. They even wash the supper dishes and fold laundry. Not without some boyish moaning, mind you, but never in hearing of their dad! Fivelina need only glance sternly at them when she hears any complaint, and mention that dad will soon be home. They are quick to assure her they were only joking, that they are really happy to help. She nods and smiles knowingly to herself.
Bitsy, on the other hand, is still a dainty little miss, and greatly concerned for her Mama. No complaining on her part. She works tirelessly to ease the load so Mama can rest, to the point where Fivelina has to firmly insist sometimes that it’s bedtime now, or it’s time for some Bitsy-chill-time.
Fivelina is teaching Bitsy to sew and knit. They are working on baby-mouseling bonnets, jammies, blankets and booties. So when the chores are done in the evening, the two of them sit there on the couch, by Walnut Woodstove, busily turning out a tiny layette for the twins-to-be.
Of course there’ll be a need for diapers too, so with a length of flannel she found at Underground Channel, Fivelina is cutting and sewing dozens of tiny triangles. As she finishes them, Bitsy stacks them carefully into neat piles in the bottom drawer of Betina’s old dresser.
Of course there’ll be a need for diapers too, so with a length of flannel she found at Underground Channel, Fivelina is cutting and sewing dozens of tiny triangles. As she finishes them, Bitsy stacks them carefully into neat piles in the bottom drawer of Betina’s old dresser.
Can’t you just picture rows of those tiny nappies out on Bittersweet Vine clothesline come a sunny spring morning? My guess is Sir Fivel may need to carve out more clothespins real soon. Or maybe that’ll be included in Olaf’s evening wood-carving lessons, who knows?
Speaking of clotheslines. I’d best be leaving my silly imaginings here and hang out
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