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This afternoon, while reading through her calendar, pointing out various dates to me: She: “Mama, the next day on the first day before the last day, are we going to do that thing again?” [Brief interlude during which my brain: attempted solving for "huh?" in yet another incomprehensible preschooler . . . → Read More: Typical Monday Talk with the Three-Why-Oh The Child and I, we don’t particularly agree about the necessity of sippy cups in our lives any more. She’d like to keep the convenience (and freedom-to-roam-outside-the-kitchen-with-it) of the spill-free sippys. I prefer the one-less-part-to-wash of the keep-it-in-the-kitchen ‘big girl’ open-top cups. For a couple months . . . → Read More: We’ve Settled Our Differences with a Little Fancy She kind of isn’t much of a fan of me taking pictures of her anymore, hiding her face behind her hands, squealing in delight at having foiled my photo plans yet again. She kind of prefers to do her own self-portraiture, when she thinks I am not looking, . . . → Read More: Little and Unlittle Ten things I’m telling myself today: (1) There is nothing I’d rather use this Monday for than year-end reports. (2) I don’t look a day over 27. Ish. (3) My favorite jeans easily make me appear 5 pounds lighter than I am. (4) If . . . → Read More: To Self, From Self (Edition 01.30.12) One evening this week, following her bath, the conversation as she cuddled up next to me in all her freshly-shampooed-hair-smelling sweetness: She: “Mama, before I was born you were a lawyer?” Me: “Yes.” She: “And you worked in the lawyer office with Emmy’s daddy?” Me: “Yes.” Pause. She, voice rising to giggles on . . . → Read More: My Shingle: “Goofball Consultant – Est. 2003, Reest. 2008″ A few nights ago, The Child and I loaded into our car to head home from church. Before pulling away from the curb, I scrolled through the missed messages and emails that had accumulated on my phone while it had been silenced. Growing impatient and bored with my reading (and being anxious . . . → Read More: Considering It: Sing About the Wheels Took The Child to dinner last night, just the two of us. She squealed in delight at the “just girls” occasion, as though we hadn’t already spent all day together. She chirped and chattered the whole way there about the taco she wanted and how she would order it. As soon as we . . . → Read More: If She Demands You Not Look at Her Ankles, The Why By way of explaining/excusing/blaming-my-kid-for a bald spot I’m developing . . . . tweetmeme_style = ‘compact’;tweetmeme_url=’http://othersuch.net/2011/12/21/just-a-scooter-please-oss-in-the-e-t-on-the-124/’; On November 12th, The Child helped me put up our Christmas tree. On November 14th, we realized that we’d never gotten around to carving our Halloween pumpkin. So we carved a turkey into it, designed feathers out of pipe cleaners. Topped it off with a Santa hat. Crossed ”investigate source of Child’s holiday confusion” off . . . → Read More: Merry HallowThankChristOtherSuchmas I should like to have a herd of these. A herd of super-silly, kissy-faced, zebra-ballerina hybrids. She runs on sugar and gets approximately 60 minutes of crazy per preschooler-sized-handful of candy-corn. And I’ll take a herd of them, please. That is all. Thank you. tweetmeme_style . . . → Read More: A Herd of These, Please |
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