When Helen’s around, Alice doesn’t talk a whole lot. Mostly because Helen talks CONSTANTLY and so it’s hard to get a word in edgewise. But sometimes, she’ll just blindside me with something.
The other day, my dad came over to install a new quilt hanging system in our dining room — one that is custom-made for the size quilts I make, and is screwed to the studs. So that the girls can’t rip it out of the wall this time.
After Dad left, Alice came into the New Room where we were decorating for Christmas and very matter-of-factly said, “I told Papacake that I had a boo-boo and he said that he would kiss it tomorrow.” I am not making this up. That was what she said, verbatim.
She’s two. Not even 2.5 yet.
Helen could string together sentences that would make our jaws drop when she was that age, but I swear, it never ceases to be amazing to see how much a child has absorbed just by being immersed in language. I love it.
(Incidentally, the girls call my dad “Papacake” because Helen was terrified of him for almost 2 years, and one time he tried to bribe her with coffee cake at a church breakfast – and it worked. After that she said she wanted some “Papacake” and the nickname stuck.)
Stacy’s challenge for this week is to write five open letters to whoever/whatever we want. So, here goes.
Dear Dars: Thanks for the Special Foods/Sometimes Foods/Anytime Foods suggestion for an approach to snacking for kids. “No, Helen, cookies are a SPECIAL food. We’ll have a Special food after we have our dinner. Why don’t you choose any Anytime Food as a snack instead?” I think I’ll cut out some fruits and veggies from magazines soon and she and I can make a poster with Anytime Foods on it. Or I can THINK about cutting stuff out of magazines. My intentions are good. Follow-through stinks.
Dear Annoying Parent: Please don’t leave 3-minute messages on my answering machine or call to discuss your child’s entire mathematical history. I really don’t care. I care about the here and now, and how I can help him succeed in the class he is taking NOW. I don’t need the play-by-play of how well he did with fractions four years ago and whether or not he liked last year’s algebra teacher. And, after meeting with the kid twice, it’s WAY too early for me to give an accurate assessment of what his intellectual shortcomings might be to a school administrator. I can’t believe you even asked.
Dear Guy at Mattress King: Thanks for not rooking me with the sale of Alice’s Big Girl Bed today. I appreciate your integrity.
Dear Driver on the Parkway: Thanks for letting me merge so politely during rush hour as we all traveled around an accident cleanup process. I think you were the first person I tried to merge in front of, and you were so nice about it! I really appreciate it.
Dear Pounds That Are Congregating Around My Midsection Again: Go. Away. You are not welcome here. Consider this your eviction notice.