I'm trying to find my daughter. Do you know where she is? You know the girl I'm talking about, right? My daughter who pitches a fit every time I drop her off at school and church? It didn't matter if it was the first day of school or the last day of school, she was still going to pull the waterworks? You know that girl, right? Well I have no clue where that girl is. She's been MIA this month. THIS month she's been replaced by somebody who wears pigtails just like my daughter, who giggles just like my daughter, who's a big ol' sassypants just like my daughter, but she doesn't pitch a fit like my daughter. AND IT'S BEEN AMAZING! From the first day of VPK, you've run into class like it's no big thing. Like you've done it your whole life. I am so proud of you, my sweet peach. Like, I have to physically restrain myself from squeezing my proudness out of you. You probably won't understand this until you have your own kiddo. And even then, you probably won't understand it unless you have your own kiddo whose constant crying causes you to get called out of 13 consecutive church services when she's one and continues the sobfest at church and up through K3 (not that I wish that on you. But I kind of do. Not really. Yes I do.) You are growing up into such a rad kid. And I simply can't hear enough of "Momma, school is uh-MAY-zing. I totally love it."
I'm not sure if you think I'm falling down on my job as Mommy or if you just like to assert authority over Charlie (or both) but lawsy mercy, how you like to mother that boy. And I'll give you zero guesses as to how that goes over with someone whose current favorite words are NO and MINE and whose current favorite volume is SCREECHY LOUD BOY. And I'll give you another zero guesses as to how THAT goes over with someone who is extremely sensitive and takes everything personally. Suffice it to say, there has been a lot of hollering and tears this month. And that's just from me ...
Fun fact - I gave you a little language quiz earlier this week. According to your score, you have the vocabulary of a fifth grader. Surprising? Negative. Funny? Youuuu betcha.
Speaking of language, you think you can speak Spanish. You know what hola means, and you take that to mean you know the entire Spanish language. I hate to break it to you, but you don't. You do know what hola means. But that's it. Though it doesn't stop you from trying to speak "Spanish". [I mean no disrespect to anyone who reads this blog who actually speaks Spanish]. Case in point:
Me: Natalie, please get your shoes on. It's time to go to the store.
You: Fleeb. Flarb. Floob.
Me: Um, huh?
You: Fleeb! Flarb! Floob!
Me: Riiiiiiiiight. You. Shoes. Feet. Now.
You: I'm speaking SPANISH! I just said 'OK, Mommy!'
Me: Well, I don't speak Spanish. I speak English. Please speak English when you talk to me.
You: You speak Spanish, silly! You know what Hola means!
Me: Um, well, yes. Yes, I do.
You: See? So you should know what 'Blugga blarga flarby blarby' means!
Me: I should?
You: YES!
Me: Uhhhhh ... I don't. I'm sorry, peach.
You: MOMMA! It's SPANISH! It means 'I like bananas!'
You've surprised me a few times this month. You often ask me what Charlie and I do while you're at school. Part of me thinks I should just tell you the boring parts so that you don't feel left out. But then I figure that I should just go ahead and tell you all of it. One day I mentioned that I took Charlie to a new (not like 'brand new' new, but 'we've never been there before' new) park and I braced for the inevitable "You took Charlie to the park without MEEEEEEEE?!?!?!! WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!" But you truly surprised me! You said "Oh how FUN! Did Charlie have a good time? Can the three of us go again after quiet time today?" It's sweet and rational comments like that which make crackhead and irrational comments like "Charlie [who was buckled in his highchair across the table - at least 3' away] is trying to reach for my grapes! WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!" make me want to poke a fork in my ears. Or better yet, your ears.
You're still a non-stop crafting machine. You turn out no fewer than five pieces of art each day during quiet time. You were really into painting earlier this month but currently you divide your time between coloring with markers (you particularly like coloring scenes of a boy and a girl swinging under an apple tree [a pink swing for the girl and a blue swing for the boy - of course] and a momma reading a magazine under an umbrella so she won't get too hot - it's like you're reading my mind!!) and making Play-Doh pizzas and spaghetti dinners. And the other day, you drew the girl next a teeny tiny slide. I was just about to ask why the slide was so little when you said "The slide isn't actually that little. It just looks little because it's far away. Did you know that things look little when they're far away?" I had no idea you knew what perspective was. Your. brain. fascinates. me.
Hugs and smooches,
Mommy & Daddy
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Headlines for September 1, 2013
- Does Obama's decision on Syria diminish the power of the presidency?
- Nelson Mandela leaves hospital, condition still critical
- Your phone is blabbing your location to snoops all the time
- Patriots release Tim Tebow — are his NFL days over?
- Burger King Rolls Out With 'French Fry Burger'
- Couple who died hours apart after 71 years of marriage described as inseparable by family
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