Out of energy, I flopped myself down on the couch. Of course, that’s about when my son woke up from his nap. One of the older children retrieved him from his crib, and he found me.
Rather than demand I get up and play with him, he gave me a stuffed kitten and laid his beloved blankie across my back.
“Should I read you a story?” he asked.
“Yes, please,” I said.
He grabbed the book, Dear Zoo, and read it quite well from memory.
“Would you like a song now?” he asked. Read the rest of this entry
Last week I wrote about my failed attempt to get serious writing done at home. The following week, I decided to venture back to the library.
Instead of sitting in the back corner in the section marked “Silent Zone,” I found a more central area, not directly under the AC, that was, at least initially, quiet.
Then someone I couldn’t see carried on a phone conversation at full volume. Minutes later, a librarian, of all people, explained to a patron the organizational system of the book stacks at even greater volume. And finally, an older gentleman asked if the seat next to me was taken. When I said no, he responded, “Now it is,” and plunked down with a waft of week-old body odor, dropped his pile of newspapers next to him, then crinkled through them one by one, all the while taking rattling breaths that twice made me check to be sure he hadn’t actually fallen asleep and was snoring. Read the rest of this entry
This may come as a shock to readers, but my two-year-old is not fond of napping. When I announced naptime, he hid behind the Curtain of Invisibility.
To prove their love and devotion, my kids will often let me sleep with stuffed animals carefully chosen from among their vast stores.
It’s a little like paying tribute but without the volcano. One daughter will even hold out the proffered gift, head bowed, and back away, still bent at the waist, arms out. She’s a silly one. I don’t know where she gets it.
Lately the girls have been on a rabbit kick, so the space between Husband’s and my pillows has become filled with Thumper, Hopper, Flopper, and friends.
Husband said, “Why do there seem to be more animals here instead of less?” Read the rest of this entry
She’ll turn it into a holder for her princess dolls.
Rather inventive, no?
A friend shared this story about her five-year-old daughter:
Daughter: “Mommy, tell me a secret.”
Mom (whispering): “I think you are sweet and funny.”
Daughter: “Now, I’ll tell you one… (whispering) Read the rest of this entry
Here are my ideas. Vote or add your own:
- Spice Boy
- Baby Spice
- Spice Spice Baby
Joseph’s sisters were having fun with him and their stuffed animals.
He doesn’t seem to mind.
Getting a little higher…
A quick note to show you this. My daughter made a path for the tooth fairy from the doorway to her pillow. Do you think the tooth fairy will miss it?
A lot of predators along the way. It’s more like running the gauntlet. Or rather, flying. Read the rest of this entry
No actual Bobs were hurt or thought about during the writing of this post. Shoot. Now I just thought of one. I hope he’s okay.
I was reciting spelling words to my ten-year-old. One of the words was recurring. She wrote it twice. On purpose. Clever girl.
This is the same girl who, six years ago, was in a narrating kick. She once said, “Lucy is walking, walking, walking. Lucy is leaving the room.” (Thank goodness.)
There’s a man who periodically comes to the door asking if he can cut branches off our eucalyptus tree. I think he said his sister uses them in her florist shop. Since the tree grows like a weed and we occasionally have to have it professionally trimmed, I’m always happy to let him.
This time he said he’d be right back after picking his kids up from the school around the corner. When he was gone for a long time I worried he’d changed his mind. Finally there was a knock on the door. The man’s young son was standing there with a bouquet of flowers.
“My mom said to give these to you.”
I thanked him and told him to pass along the thanks to his wonderful mom. I neglected to Read the rest of this entry