Me: Amelie?
Amelie : Yes?
Me: Lia?
Lia: Yes?
Me: Levi?
Levi: No?
Category Archives: Funnies
So I’m looking like a ball, apparently
Levi came up to my tummy yesterday to pat it and say, “Hi Baby!”
Then he paused a moment, thoughtfully considering my stomach.
“Ball IN?”
He lifts up my shirt to check.
“No ball.”
The power of the imagination
The girls navigate most of their days as shifting characters in shifting scenarios. Mother, daughter, wife, sister. Recently they’ve both developed an aversion to being the “boy”, so we haven’t had quite as many regular weddings…mostly double weddings with imaginary grooms. Splendid veils, however (provided by Mommy’s scarf collection).
Their stories are all relational. I’m the mother, you’re the daughter. I’m the this, you’re the that. Amelie pops in fifteen times a day to ask me if I would be her grandma. I’m always answering to “Mommy!!!” only to be reminded that I’m not the mommy, I’m the grandma. Right.
They seem to really enjoy killing people off. Their parents are always dead. If not both, then at least one reaches his or her demise during the course of an imaginary day. That particular plot turn is helpful when you’re wanting another wedding.
The other day, Lia’s first husband needed to die because she wanted to marry a new husband (a new father for Amelie), Bronco. (Which, by the way, has made it on to their list of prospective baby names…along with Marquis from Die Fledermaus, and other likewise unsuitable suggestions).
But her old husband was still alive, traveling the world. So she decided that someone would kill him. I reminded her that we don’t kill even in pretend play. She thought about that for a moment, and then announced that he got a disease. And died.
Zap.
Sometimes I get a little…leery of their habit of killing off their imaginary parents. Particularly when they kill off the mother figure too many times in a row. My pregnant self can’t handle that.
But looking at all great children’s literature and films, what other scenario is there? The child is always minus at least one parent…that’s where the plot gets its impetus and pizzazz. That’s what allows the child to step out of the confined life of a parented child and become a hero. Or, at least, increasingly independent. Or increases the chance for adventure.
So in my book, as long as they don’t kill off the mother too many times in a row and refrain from imaginary war or murder, they’re good to go in their little imaginary world of independence, heros, adventures…and weddings.
Lia-isms, Lost and Found
A few months ago I did the unforgivable and dumped my pile of “in transit” papers in a baby wipes box and put it in my closet. This was probably in October, judging from the contents. I finally got up the nerve to clean out the box today.
There’s a reason why these papers lie around…so many of them can’t be thrown away and yet defy filing.
Among other things (like now defunct tax papers -oops- and a $100 cash gift -score!-), I found a couple of scraps of papers with notes of things Lia had said.
Lia, peeking around the corner :: Stay clear so no folks see you.
Amelie, incredulously :: What???!
Lia explains :: Folks are people.
Or back when we had been reading books about St. Francis. And Lia was assigned to learn the song “O When the Saints” for piano. St. Francis will be one of those!
The Proper Age for Marriage
Lia :: I’m 20, how old are you?
Amelie :: I’m 10.
Lia :: You can’t get married by the age of 10!
Amelie :: Well, then, I’m 80.
Christmas Carols, unplugged
Some of the Christmas carols have acquired new lyrics, here in our wintry household. (Okay, so it was 85 earlier this week, but we still pretend it’s wintry).
I don’t have any desire to correct the alternate lyrics. These days are short and sweet.
Jingle Bells…apparently I haven’t explained that we’re a temperance family…because bells on cocktails ring. (To be honest, I don’t know what a bobtail is either).
Feliz Navidad … Devo should like this … becomes feliz naughty-dad.
But my personal favorite at the moment, the one I can’t help laughing at every single time, though it draws puzzled looks from Lia, is ::
Angels we have heard on high,
Sweetly singing o’er the pie;
And the mountains in reply, (see, pie rhymes with high and reply, so it makes perfect sense)
Echoing their joyous strings.
And I’ve got the PIE recorded on the Christmas carol recording we’re making for our families. Score!
Dear Mom
Dear Mom,
I’m sorry I missed your call the other day. I’m surprised I could even find the message, it was sandwiched in between about thirty five campaign calls. I don’t know who they think they’re going to convince to vote for them by leaving those annoying messages. I don’t think it shows good fiscal management to spend that much money to call people up, irritate them, and leave a recorded message.
We did indeed have piano lessons on Thursday. And Mrs. Linette said the kindest things about Lia and her progress. You know we had that Fall Recital on Sunday. Lia dressed up as the Sugar Plum Fairy and played her little piece. She didn’t play it as well as she usually did, but that didn’t seem to phase her. It was a grand social event for her, making friends with the kids she was sitting next to, and then having a glorious post-recital romp with Ali and Micah and Amelie. She informed me that she talked to her new friends during the whole recital. At least, until she went to sit with Micah, who was ‘lonely’.
She got two new pieces at her lesson, Jingle Bells and The Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy. I’m excited for both. We’ve been working on her playing less tentatively and deeper in the keys, and I think she’ll get right into the spirit of things with Jingle Bells. And then the Sugar Plum Fairy is pretty ‘difficult’ – for sure the most difficult piece she’s played yet. She’s sight-reading so well now that the pieces she is assigned are not challenging…at least to read and get the basic idea.
Lia’s stretched up the last week or so. Today she went around and showed me how tall she was – she could reach this or that. Her head touches the roof of the car when she stands (not when she sits, she clarified).
And when she opened her mouth and peered inside this week, she discovered that she is getting molars, too! Just like Levi!
So now Amelie’s mealtime prayers go thus ::
Dear Jesus, Thank You for the wonderful day! Thank you for Lia’s teeth and Lia’s molars and Levi’s molars. Amen.
And Amelie, of course, is sure that she is getting some new teeth, too. Or perhaps has some wiggly teeth.
The girls have decided to study The Nutcracker Suite (hence the Sugar Plum Fairy stuff). Interlibrary loans are the bomb. (Did I just say “the bomb”? I thought I swore in highschool that I would never say those two words in colloquial usage. Well, as my Grandma always says, one shouldn’t swear.) But our library system apparently doesn’t have a recording of the original score. The closest I’ve found uses synthesizers behind the orchestra. Very 90s. Very disturbring. I’m a purist.
But we also got an album from Beethoven’s Wig. I had seen the group mentioned on some blog some where some time in the recent past and snatched it up when I saw it in the online catalog. It’s so fun – “sing a long symphonies” and other classics, all with singing words. We have album 3 and the opening number is Carmen’s Toreador, entitled Bull in a China Shop. Hahahaha.
I finally, finally ordered and received the Math U See. But Devo keeps thinking we’re talking about Matthew C. (Who is that? he wonders.) Amelie loves to play with the manipulatives. But maybe that is because all of their toys have been confiscated.
Yes, our first toy confiscation has occurred.
Friday we were working upstairs in the loft and the girls were playing with the kitchen toys, the dolls, and the doll clothes. And when it was time to come downstairs, I asked them to clean up. And then I asked them again. And then, that was it. That was the end of this era of toy-picking-up-patterns.
Toy clean up has recently gone like this :
Me : Time to clean up the toys.
Me, five minutes later : Girls, it’s time to clean up the toys.
Me : Amelie, you clean up the books. Lia, you clean up the dolls.
Lia, whining : Amelie isn’t helping.
Me : Amelie, please help.
Amelie : non-verbal declaration that she is NOT going to pick up the toys now.
Me : cajole, cajole
Lia : whine, whine (although, she does pick up the toys)
Amelie : lays on floor, possibly weeping and wailing
So I told them that they needed to clean up their toys without me saying any more about it. And if they didn’t pick them up, Pappie and I would box up the toys and put them where they were not allowed to play with them. And then I set a timer … they needed to start picking up before the timer went off.
And they both soberly and deliberately came downstairs, sat on the couch, and read books. I would love to know if they had a conversation about this, or if it was an unspoken agreement on a selected course of action.
The timer went off, Devo and I picked up all the toys in the house, stowed them in the front room and closed the door.
And they haven’t said a word about it since.
Well, I take that back. Amelie did mention the next morning that she missed having a snuggie. And Lia told our friend Marni who came to babysit them Saturday night that their toys had been confiscated because they didn’t pick them up.
But that’s it.
Weird.
Ironically, the house is still the same amount of messy and cluttered. So I guess I can’t blame it on the toys. We didn’t give a timeline…I think we’ll wait until they ask for them and then sit down and talk about the privilege of playing with toys. And the responsibilities that come with the privilege. And the expectations that exist in this home.
And in the meantime, I’m going to work on figuring out what on earth is making the mess if it isn’t the toys, and eliminating it.
Love!
Leilani
Tidbits
I opened my baking utensil drawer to find a ping pong ball in the 1/3 cup measure. The pair had last been seen going on a tour of the front hall with a small boy for a tour guide.
Amelie was dancing the “Chinese Tango” this evening. I think this is what comes from studying the Nutcracker and watching Dancing with the Stars on the same afternoon.
Found in garden this afternoon :: the last missing Easter egg. It had a plastic parachute man in it. If it had had candy in it it would have been sniffed out long ago.
I joined a choir – seasonal, just now until a Christmas concert early in December. It’s the first time I’ve warbled in public in YEARS. Devo hired a babysitter and practically pushed me out the door, and I’m so glad he did.
It’s finally cooled off enough to do things outside. We went for a bike ride and were so happy to get rained on on our return trip.
I’ve been thinking that there is a difference between gentleness and tenderness. Semantics, I’m sure, but it seems that tenderness requires a deeper and truer commitment.
Does this qualify as a bad hair moment … or not?
I tucked them in, gave out kisses, arranged snuggies, and turned to leave the room.
Amelie says, “Mom, I’m going to tell you something. Do you want to hear it? Your hair looks like Jesus.”
Thanks, Ams.
Squash toys
Why play with toys when you have…squash?
Incidentally, I noticed at dinner that my squash basket was empty. Apparently the squashes had been squirreled away upstairs in the loft. Perhaps squirreled isn’t the most accurate descriptor…I’m sure that “lugged” would be more fitting…these babies are heavy!
Soap and climbing
I bought a few bars of Dr. Bronner’s castile soap. Good thing I wasn’t planning on using them right away, because they have achieved the illustrious status of Favorite Toys of the Week.
I have seen the bars of soap used this week as babies. As cellphones. And, this afternoon, as “skaters”. (That would be skates). Very handy things, soap bars.
(Tell me again why we buy our children toys? It’s so funny what they pick up to spark their imaginations.)
Levi has mastered the skill of climbing up into chairs. So it’s not uncommon to see him perched somewhere, swinging his legs.
Now that we’ve gotten smart enough to pull the chairs away from the tables, that is. Before that, we’d find him perched on the table.
Perhaps eating a tube of toothpaste. In his birthday suit. Sopping wet from the shower. Escapee!
Lia’s Song
A fragment of Lia’s song, complete with motions::
I hiss around the deserts of Egypt. Hissss, hisssss, hissss.
What comes after?
Amelie has been processing numbers today. An earlier conversation concerned “Is four after three?”. Yes, I replied, amazed and proud at her mathematical reasoning.
“Then I’m going to be four after three!”
A couple seconds later. “Is five after four?…I’ll be five after four!” And so on and so forth.
Tonight she picked up the conversation again, this time after counting a requisite number of bites at dinner. (Ten was the magic number).
Amelie :: Is 10 after 8?
Devo and I :: It’s two after 8. Eight, nine, ten.
Amelie :: One, two, three, four, five, seven, eight…hey! (indignantly) two is NOT after eight!
We concede.
It’s more important to be kind than to be right.
We’ve entered the stage in sibling communication of “I’m right, you’re wrong”. With quick escalation, often ending in a bite. Or a shove. Or a scream. Or all three.
The new family motto is therefore :: It is more important to be kind than to be right.
And as the days slip by, I ponder the far-reaching effects of such a practice. Religion. Politics. Future relationships. Current relationships.
The phrases “I’m right” and “You’re wrong” are now family no-nos.
Amelie was sitting at the kitchen counter the other day, playing with her favorite kitchen toys – the KitchenAid attachment paddles. (The whisk, the batter paddle, and the dough hook lead such interesting lives, you’d never believe it.)
I hear, “You’re wrong, I’m right.”
Amelie catches my eye and points to the dough hook, “It’s just this.”
She exculpates herself.
Lost in Pronunciation
In imaginary play, I noticed that various characters were being bequeathed the unsavory name of “Diarrhea”.
Me :: Let’s not talk about diarrhea.
Lia :: Why not?
Me :: Well, what is diarrhea?
Lia: It’s poo-poo.
Me: It’s not nice to talk about poo-poo.
Lia :: But Princess Diarrheas – we have that movie.
I ask you, what is a mother to say? Haha.
This is just the most recent in many funny word confusions Lia has been using lately. Yesterday, for example, we painted our nails with “polinai-ish”. Would that be a spoonerism of nail polish?
