determination

We went out for a family dinner at Chipotle and the girls immediately asked to sit at the "high chairs" -- the restaurant's windows are lined with bar stools that are, indeed, very high chairs. I said they could, and offered to help Lauren up. She quickly told me, "I can do it," and gave it two very good tries before conceding, "I need a little help." I lifted her onto the stool and whispered in her ear that I was very proud of her good tries. A few minutes later, Kim and I were sitting at an adjacent table eating when we noticed Lauren, with just her chest on the top of her seat and the rest of her flailing about. She was grunting and writhing, trying to find something for her feet to push against so that she could gain a better position. After what seemed like a very long time, she sat up and exclaimed, "I did it!" We congratulated her and continued our conversation. Well, it wasn't long before she jumped down and was at it again, and again, and again. We watched with great admiration as her technique improved but fatigue set it. Her final attempt was agonizing. I'm sure it took everything she had. But when she finally pulled herself upright and turned her triumphant face to me she exclaimed, "That was EASY!" She is a determined little soul.

It reminded me of the time last summer when we visited Riverfront Park in Spokane, Washington. We were there with my parents, walking around, and came to the bridge that crosses the Spokane River where it winds through downtown. It's a heavy wooden bridge and completely solid, but through the narrow gaps between beams you can just see the river rushing below. Lauren, then two-years-old, took one step onto the bridge, looked down, froze, and begged to be picked up. I'd carried her to about the half-way point when she asked to be put down. As she stood, still staring at the water below, I suggested she hold my hand and walk. She took one step, then a few more. I suggested we run, and she surprised me by letting go of my hand and running as fast and fearlessly as she could. And I thought to myself, I hope Lauren conquers all of life's challenges this way.

The Lesson of the Pink Boots

Today Lauren chose to wear "the boots" -- the hot pink cowgirl boots worn by Ella nearly every day for two years and now handed down (quite happily, I was surprised to discover) to Lauren. The only trouble with the boots is that they often do not stay on when worn by legs dangling from a shopping cart seat. So, after picking them up from the floor of Target several times I put them in the bottom of our cart and made a mental note not to forget them there. Well, you know what happened. I had just pulled into our driveway, after a fifteen-minute drive home from Target, and unloaded Lauren and Audrey when I remembered.

Back to Target, just hoping that the cart was still in the parking lot corral where I'd left it. No such luck. Still in the car, I called customer service. As I explained our situation, I heard Lauren in the back seat: "Um, tell them they look like my pink boots. And also, they are my pink boots." Still no luck.

"Well, Lauren," I sighed. "Should we go in and see if we can see them?"
"Yes." So, I put the girls in the cart and pushed them toward the entrance, envisioning a circuitous route through Target staring underneath shopping carts pushed by people staring back at me, and saying a silent prayer. Please, Heavenly Father. It would really be nice if we could just find these boots and go home.

We hadn't even crossed the threshold when I saw them, peeking out from underneath one of many shopping carts pushed into rows at the store entrance. "Lauren! Look." She squealed. We happily plucked our boots from their place and headed for the car. As we made our way across the parking lot I asked Lauren, "Do you know why we found the boots?" She cocked her head to the side.
"Because they were lost?"
"Because I prayed to Heavenly Father and asked Him to help us find them."

Tonight when Kim came home we recounted the story and Lauren added her own conclusion. "We prayed and Heavenly Father helped us!"

And that's worth an extra trip to Target.

picture day

Isabella Jane Moore, Kindergartener

ay! que linda!

Lauren does not like to listen to music in the car. I don't understand it, but I do know that nearly every time Ella and I want to listen to the radio or a CD (with the occasional exception of the Curious George soundtrack) she claps her hands over her ears and yells over the volume, "My ears can't hear it!" Sometimes we take turns between silence and music, but most of the time I require her to endure.

Well, today, for the first time in her life, I turned on the radio and heard Lauren's voice say, "Turn it up." The song? Oye Como Va. From my fisheye mirror I could see her, looking out the window, head tilting, little fists pumping up and down to the Latin beat. "Oye como va/mi ritmo/bueno por gozar/mulata . . ."

Must be the Malta in her veins.

songfest

This morning we went to Ella's Kindergarten Thanksgiving Songfest and "Sharing Breakfast." She and her classmates wore truly adorable turkey hats and feather necklaces, and sang five truly adorable Thanksgiving songs. I was impressed Ella seemed to know all of the words to all of the songs, including this one, which was my favorite:

Farmer Brown (sung to the tune of Yankee Doodle)

Farmer Brown went out to find/A turkey for his dinner/When he came I held my breath/And tried to look much thinner!/Farmer Brown, go away/Farmer Brown, don't pick me/I wish you would have spaghetti (subsequent verses say pizza, hotdogs and McDonalds)/For Thanksgiving dinner!

After the singing we took pictures (seen here) and went to her classroom for a potluck breakfast that included one of her favorite things: donut holes. She had several piled on her plate and when I commented that I thought that was probably enough she replied, with her mouth completely full of powdered donut, "I'm starving!"

firsts

This morning was the first time I noticed Audrey playing, really playing, in her baby gym, reaching for the toys and making them rattle. Hooray! And she seemed to be quite thrilled with herself, too.

Also this morning, I watched Ella reading, really reading, sounding out words she didn't know without getting frustrated, and reading herself a story. She so loves books. I can already see her curled up with a whole bed full of them. It won't be long.

flu shot update

Lauren is fearless. When the nurse asked who would like to go first she quickly raised her hand, "Me!" Then she climbed up on my lap so I could pull down her little pants and followed instructions perfectly. Didn't even flinch. She told Ella it didn't hurt, but Ella was sobbing so loudly I don't think she heard.

I debated letting Ella off this time. Does a person really need a flu shot if it means being completely traumatized? But, the pediatrician did say that we should all get one this year to protect Audrey as much as ourselves. So, I did what I had to do. I hoisted her, kicking and screaming, onto the exam table and held her down with the help of two nurses while she got her shot. And then, the instant it was over, we wiped her tears and giggled about how silly it all was.

flu shot, anyone?

I decided our walk home from school today was as good a time as any to inform the girls of what awaits them after school tomorrow. "Girls, " I announced, "tomorrow after school we're going to the doctor and I'm getting a flu shot. (pause) And after I get mine you're going to get yours." Ella burst into tears. "NO! I DON'T want a flu shot, I'm NOT getting a flu shot, and you CAN'T make me do it!" Despite her sobbing, I could just barely hear Lauren's voice from somewhere behind us. "Can I go first?" Quite amazed, I said,"Why, yes, Lauren. You can go first." Ella sobbed louder. "WAAAAAA. I don't want a flu shot. Nnnnnn-O! Flu shot! WAAAAAAA." I turned to see if Lauren was still behind us (her legs are very short), and right there she was, galloping, flailing her arms with each stride, and celebrating. "Yea-uh! Yeah-uh! Yea-uh!"

Later, on the car ride home from some holiday shopping at the mall, the conversation came up again. Same angst from Ella, same happy acceptance from Lauren. "Ella," she explained, "It just pinches a little bit and then it goes away. I'm not afraid of pinches." And then she laughed like that would be the silliest thing in the world. Predictably, Ella cried, and I was reminded of a comment she had made to me just hours before: "Lauren . . . I know she's really cute and everything, but she really makes me crazy sometimes."