She’s Listening

It seems I’ve taught Isabella a bad habit. When she’s in my way I try to say, “Excuse me.” Sometimes when she’s directly underfoot I ask her to “Move, please.” Often, though,  (probably too often) I’m frustrated, carrying something hot or something heavy while my sciatic nerves shriek at me) and it becomes, “Move, move, move!” (Not screaming it, mind you, my tone is exasperated but not angry; but I’m dropping the polite request nonetheless.)

I didn’t really realize when I was doing it. I discovered that it was a problem, though, when I was making the bed yesterday morning and Bella, trying to get past me to the window started saying it to me: “Move, move, move.” Oops! I suppose I shouldn’t talk to her in ways I don’t want her to talk to me.