We heard dogs fighting and realized a stray pit bull was attacking their mutt of a dog. I did what I ALWAYS do in emergencies - I froze. I stopped breathing, frozen in panic and fear. Thank God others are not emergency challenged and quickly utilized baseball bats, a knife and their own size and deep voices to combat the relentless attacker. That pit bull was determined to take his prey down, and it took a few minutes to dissuade him. I won 't pretend that the baseball bat was not utilized by the heroes in their efforts to save the little dog. Thankfully, a few swats to the rear end FINALLY made the pitty back off.
During this time, I gathered the extras from the Little House set and somehow flipped on the absent maternal switch hiding in my bones to comfort and soothe them. They were so little! And they were charming in their braids and long dresses. The littlest one, with her long blond hair and little round face melted my heart with every dramatic, hiccuppy little sob.
Soon "Ma Ingalls" came running frantically to her children, eyeing this disheveled heathen, dressed in a short skirt and loooooong jacket (A little Cake reference). She stopped short when she saw me, looking askance at the expanse of leg peeking out from under the skirt. I think I recall the advisory warning label required by law sewn into the fabric when I bought this skirt. It said: "Modesty NOT guaranteed when comforting small, frantic children is required." But I ripped the label off at the first wash, broke the law and ignored all care instructions, thinking of how silly it was that I would ever have to worry about such a scenario.
Ma Ingalls took one more more glance at my gams, cleared her voice and began to soothe her babes. My little Laura Ingalls went running into her arms as fast as she could but did not COMPLETELY let go of my skirt- which served admirably as a snot rag for panicked children. Of course my skirt hiked up even further, and Ma Ingalls again cleared her throat while glancing at my wardrobe malfunction in the making. She drew herself up, looked me straight in the eye and smiled. "This was NOT the day I planned! I wanted the children to get some fresh air and enjoy the rest of the day."
I smiled back, all the while pulling down on my errant skirt, trying desperately to make it prairie worthy by sheer force. I was tongue tied. She glanced down again, smiled again and took my hand. "Thank you for staying with the children."
I squeezed her hand and stopped worrying about the skirt. What mattered most was the moment - not her religious beliefs, not my attire, not any difference or similarity. You can make fun of my Kumbaya moment all you want! What mattered was the people who came together to save the dog, protect the children and be good neighbors. There wasn't a mean Mrs. Olsen in the bunch. (Okay, bullshit! We DO have a Mrs. Olsen on the block. She's the crabby lady who gave me the scary cake last Christmas with a plastic baby in it. She is DEFINITELY a Mrs. Olsen, but Mondays are bingo day down at the town hall, so we were spared what surely would have been an occasion for one of her rants).
I stopped by today to check on the little dog and his family. He is on the mend and the Prairie Kids were busy working on their lessons (home schooled, of course!). Little Laura was too shy to even say hello, but she did smile at me. And Ma Ingalls did as well. Short skirt be damned!
