At Mass last night, Mary learned:
1) Hooting loudly creates an echo.
2) Pulling mom’s glasses off her face makes her really mad (not the first or second time, maybe, but after that she gets a crazy look in her eyes).
3) Mom’s crazy-eyed look is hysterically funny.
At Mass last night, Mom prayed:
1) That the church vestibule (under construction) would be completed very soon.
2) That the priest was hard of hearing.
3) For the physical strength to hold the 22 pound toddler at arms’ length.
Mary’s newest word is “Hug.” This is accompanied by the sweetest embraces and slightly moist, delicate kisses. She is not frugal in the delivery of her affection, and I am frequently made to sigh, “Oh, I love this age.”
But then I will have the audacity to peel a banana, or to remove the stem from a strawberry – my only excuse, forgive me, is that she is incapable of peeling them herself and that she preferred me to take the green part off just yesterday – and her inconsolable fits of writhing and crying on the floor remind me how much “I hate this age.”
She kisses him.
She hugs him.
He puts rabbit ears over her head.
Maybe I should decorate my house with large, red bulls’-eyes and put all the kids’ toys on metal shelving covered with shrink-wrap. I could probably pay the bills, make dinner and mow the lawn before she even noticed I was gone.Stereotypes exist because people act stereotypically.
I got Mary dressed this morning in a pretty blue dress she had never seen before. “Ooooo,” she said. “Yes, pretty,” I agreed. Then I said, “Let’s get your shoes.”
Mary didn’t want her shoes, apparently bored with the same old same old. She walked off to play with the toy kitchen. “Look,” I said. She blatantly ignored me and continued to occupy herself with plastic vegetables. “Mary, look,” I insisted. These weren’t her usual shoes. These were new sandals, something she had never seen. Finally, I waved them in front of her face.
“Ooooo,” she said and immediately lifted her feet for a try-on. “How nice,” her sisters cooed. Once on, she bent over admiring them.
“Let’s go show, Daddy,” I suggested. She liked that idea, grasped my finger and off we toddled. First she saw Fritz and lifted her feet for him, then she showed Daddy her pretty new shoes. She babbled excitedly and continued to look at her feet as though getting new shoes were the greatest joy on earth.
Because, for a girl, sometimes, it is.
“What’s the matter?” I cooed at the baby as I extracted her from the high chair. She was covered with her dinner, apparently had had enough, and didn’t much care that I was not done eating.
As I whisked her off for a necessary bath, I heard my three oldest children give their opinions.
“She’s just tired,” said the sage 10 year old.
“She has been pulling at her ears,” reminded the clever 7 year old.
“She’s cutting molars, too,” offered the wise 9 year old.
Well, if one must have four mothers, it is good that they are ready to make excuses for you.
I think Sandra Boynton is a genius, and this extends past her clever books to her music. These CDs make great gifts for the 99 and under crowd. My post title refers to the Belly Button (Round) which you can hear here (6th one down).
It is amazing how much better the baby sleeps (and how much better I sleep) when she finally gets some antibiotics for a double ear infection.
I look back at childhood photos and wonder what my mom was thinking in her selection of my clothing. I don’t care that all the other children were wearing bell bottoms and polyester and brown and orange, she should have been able to rise above the chaff, right?
And this one, who is increasingly difficult to capture in a decent photo (“Mary, stop moving!”)…well, let’s just say that I’m glad this underwear is clean. And I’m doubly glad it isn’t mine. 
Reit This Way 