Back In My Day

Laura: When I was your age, we didn't have Internet or iPads or even computers at home.
Sophia: Did you have doors?!...

Till Death Do I Kiss

Laura: One day when you're older, you won't want to kiss Mama and Dada anymore!
Sophia: I'll kiss you when I'm 5, and even when I'm 6, and I'll kiss you when I'm 16 and when I'm 17, and then I'll be an old woman and then I'll die.

Word of the Day: Dilated

di·lat·ed (adj.) made wider or larger in all dimensions, as in "We're eating chicken because it's dilated." (Sophia was watching an educational birthing video with Laura before dinner today...)

Let's Go Fly a Kite!

I let Sophia get an Elsa and Anna kite from The Dollar Tree for her first kite flying evening. 

It was a great success. She picked up on it quickly, Laura and I felt like kids again, and, yes, we sang "Let it Go" and "Let's Go Fly a Kite" too many times....

Today's Lesson:
For a great family memory, choose overdone Disney songs, lame puns, and a daughter's infectious laughter over self-dignity ; )

To Be A Dot

Laura's Post:

After listening to a Spanish song about occupations in the car, I ask a follow-up question.

Me: What do you want to be when you grow up?
S: A dot
Me: A dot?
S: No. A dot!
Me: A dot?
S: No, Mama! A...DOT!
Me: I don't know what you are saying. Can you describe it?
S: A...DOT!!!
Me: Oh. You mean adult?
S: Yes, a dot. When I'm a dot, can I chew gum?
Me: Yes.

Sheesh. New topic, please.

Sugar Daddy

This morning I overheard Sophia explaining to Laura how she plays house:

S: I have a naughty daddy because naughty means you eat sugar and Daddy eats lots of sugar. He eats marshmallows dipped in chocolate, tootsie rolls, gummies, chocolate covered granola bars, ice cream, candy bars, chocolate. He's very naughty.

Laura: Oh, don't you eat that too?

Sophia: No, I'm the good mom....

The Key to Overflowing Displays of Affection

Sophia climbs up onto my lap and gives me a big, sweet hug:

S: I love you, Daddy!
Me: I love you, too, honey.

I chuckle appreciatively and ask her what for.

S: Because we eat good food together, and then we eat naughty food together...

Note to Self: 
The Key to my Daughter's Overflowing Display of Affection is half a Ham, Lettuce, & Tomato Sandwich while watching Sesame Street, followed by a Pink Frosted Butterfly Sugar Cookie for dessert. : )

A Family of Dragons

Laura's Post:

Sophia: I dreamed I was a baby dragon, and you and Daddy were big dragons.
Me: I think it would be dangerous with all that dragon fire in the house. Wouldn't we set the house on fire?
Sophia: No, we would use our inside voices.

The World Cycling By

Today Sophia upgraded from a Radio Flyer tricycle to a Radio Flyer balance bike:
"When I go this way, everything goes that way! The houses are going the other direction!..."

Negotiating a Puppy

The downside of going for a walk in the park on a beautiful spring day are all the dogs being walked:

S: Daddy, I reeeeally want a pet dog! Pleeeeeease, can I have a dog? Pleeeeease!...

Me: I know you want a dog, honey. They're fun to have, but they're a lot of work. Did you know that puppies will poop and pee all over the place?

S: Yes, but I will clean it alllll up! I will pick up the poop and put it in the toilet!

Me: Did you know that they chew up your toys and furniture?

S: Yes, but I will tell the puppy to stop that right now!

Me: Did you know that they shed hair all over the carpet?

S: Yes, but I will clean up all the hair!

Me: But did you know that sometimes puppies will even bite you and that can hurt?

S: Yes, but I will tell the puppy to stop biting me right now! I don't like that! And the puppy will stop biting me.

Me: Well, I'll tell you what. Some day you will get to move into your own place, and you'll be able to have your very own puppy! How about that?

S: Yes! I get to have my very own puppy!

(Crisis averted...until she realizes how many years she'll have to wait....)

Trippy Fruit

Laura: What are you eating?
S: I don't know.
Laura: Is it a mystery?
S: Mysteries and dreams.
Laura: An apricot?
S: No, mysteries and dreams.
Laura: What does that taste like?
S: Good.

Wonder Woman's Lasso of Truth

Sophia came home from the library today very excited to show me her superhero comic books for younger readers that she personally selected. I gladly sat her up on my lap so we could together fight crime in the DC Comics universe:


S: Mama! Daddy's going to read to me about super heroes!
Me: Batman and Superman...
S: ...and Wonder Woman!
Laura: (eyes rolling) I don't know why I let her get those books.
Me: Because they're awesome!
Laura: Daddy used to like Wonder Woman.
Me: Shhhh, don't tell her that! Mommy is my Wonder Woman.
S: No, she's not. Wonder Woman has the lasso of truth!...

Before She Flies Too Far Away

I'm really, really busy
With lots of really important things to do,
Which is why I have a personal rule
To set aside my really important busyness
When my daughter asks me for a hug
Because I learned a long time ago that
Her hugs are really, really important, too.

          Distracting, rejuvenating moments 
          Filled with random whispers about
          Clowns, Tigers, Princesses,
          Rainbows, Babies, Tickles,
          Beaches, Puppies, Candies...

          "Wouldn't it be funny if we ate the ears off a chocolate bunny,
          And then it got up and ran away?"
          "Yes!" I say.
          "What if I made you an apple pie, and you ate and ate and ate it
          And got bigger and bigger and bigger and bigger
          And blew away!"
          "Yes!" I say....

I smother her cheeks with
Fortifying kisses and assurances
That soon I won't be so distracted
By my really, really important things,
And I'll do much more of this,
So much more of this kind of loving busyness.

          "But you're always working!" she says.
          "But I'm not working right now," I say.

I give her another squeeze, then suddenly
She squirms, dances, and flits away
Back into her universe
To pursue her playful happiness
And leave me be with all my really, really busy,
And did I mention really, really important,
Things 
That simply cannot wait 
A second longer.

          "Wait up! I'm going with you!" I say,
          Before she flies too far away....

Happy Easter Birthday Planning

Laura's Post:

Sophia: Can I have a butterfly cake for my birthday?
Me: Sure. That's easy.
Sophia: Or maybe Frozen.
Me: Um... (No, please no!) I think it will be too hot in summer to think about Frozen.
Sophia: OK. Actually, I think I want a Jesus party.
Me: A Jesus themed party? Interesting. Why?
Sophia: Because I LOVE Jesus.

(Can't argue with that. Not sure about the cake, though. Happy Easter!)

Chocolate Eggs

Laura's Post:

Thanks for all the birthday wishes. However, I have decided to re-schedule my birthday this year. Mark is sick and unable to enjoy much. We have had three tantrums today with Sophia. One because I wanted to use the bathroom in peace soon after waking. This should have been my clue. The second occurred while we were delivering birthday cupcakes to neighbors. Less than festive. The third was a massive one at Tom's East Bay. If you were on the east side of town, you may have heard it. Apologies to anyone at the checkout, on the sidewalk, in the parking lot (from 6-6:30), on Parsons Road heading west for my erratic driving: "Don't you DARE climb out of that seat belt!" and in the parking lot of 227: "I don't WANT to go home! I want my chocolate EGG!" Not sure if that last one was me or Sophia.

I am going to eat chocolate eggs ALL BY MYSELF tonight and plan a new birthday with a babysitter and a healthy husband.

Warning: Dancing Dad!

Embarrassing anyone in public is bad manners or is at least bad planning, for it will surely come back upon you some day, multiplied, when you least expect it.

At the same time, isn't it a parent's prerogative to be embarrassing to their kids in public? Because we can't really help it, can we? We can't possibly keep up with every fanciful expectation our children have for what is (and is not) acceptable behavior in their presence: what clothes we can wear, how loud we can laugh, how affectionate we can be, or, heaven forbid, how cool we can be...

We parents walk onto a potential field of inter-relational landmines every time we step outside the home with an opinionated youngster who has a precious reputation to maintain.

For example, tonight our family took a stroll downtown and stopped into a coffee shop for some treats. While enjoying my butterscotch and caramel latte, I started to dance subtly to the music, as I'm wont to do:

Sophia: Stop dancing, Daddy.

I danced a little more overtly, hoping to evoke a smile.

Sophia: No, stop dancing!

I sensed that she was about to shout me down even louder, so I stopped and explained to her that it's okay to dance to the music in a restaurant.

"No! It's not!" she said.

I had an idea and turned to the worker walking by and said, "Excuse me, ma'am? Is it okay if people dance in your coffee shop?" The waitress looked surprised by the question, but then smiled and said, "Dance? Yes, you can dance here!"

"See, Sophia, she said we can dance here!" 

Triumphantly, I danced again to the music, stupidly thinking that I could convince my daughter to loosen up a little.

Oh, how terribly wrong I was.

She was utterly mortified. 

Her lower lip puckered out, quivering. Her eyes, wet and wide with shock, lowered to the floor as if to pray for a sinkhole to open up and rescue both her and her Cookies & Cream gelato from this humiliating moment.

Laura tried very hard not to laugh, as did I, but I stopped dancing immediately and went into pleading mode: 

"Okay, okay, honey! Daddy's done dancing. See? Don't cry. You're not supposed to cry in the coffee shop, okay? They don't want little girls crying here, okay? Hey, how's your gelato? Is it good?..."

Sheesh! I thought I had another five years before my daughter disowned me for shameless public buffoonery.

Wrong.

Sorry, honey.

Living the Cushy Life

Laura hands Sophia a sheet of Cottonelle Ultra Soft Bath Tissue to wipe her nose:
S: This is different toilet paper.
Laura: Yes, it's not the rough stuff from Sam's Club. Don't get used to it.
S: I'm used to it.