trick ponies

Today, two little elastic bands turned my baby into a toddler. A completely adorable toddler who is all smiles. I think she likes her new look.

show & tell a fib

Lauren absolutely loves it when I take my monthly turn to volunteer at her preschool. She gets to blink the lights when it's clean-up time, use a pointer to count the days of the month, report the weather, be the line leader, and, best of all, bring something for show & tell.

Her teacher, Ms. Lynn, requests that the item a student brings for show & tell corresponds with the letter of the week. This week was "L Week." Fully aware of the situation, Lauren said to me, "Mom, I really want to take Jewely to show & tell."

"That would be really fun, wouldn't it? Too bad it's not 'J Week' or 'U Week.'" She was quiet, and then I heard her say, quite mischievously, from the back seat, "I know how I can take her."

"How?"

"What if . . . her name started with 'L'?"

"You mean, like, if her name were 'Louise'?"

"Yes! Louise."

Sure enough, on show & tell morning Lauren came down the stairs to leave for school with her beloved Jewely in her arms. When the time arrived for show & tell she went to her cubby and produced Jewely, then stood next to her teacher and said, as though it were the gospel truth, "This is my unicorn, Louise." She smiled.

"Louise!" Ms. Lynn repeated. "That starts with 'L'!" A visiting county supervisor exclaimed, "My name is Louise, and I almost never meet anyone with that name, much less a unicorn!"

Lauren proudly paraded her unicorn in front of each of her classmates, who took turns petting her sparkly mane and horn.

I kept her secret.

Walking to the car I asked, "So, is Jewely's name Louise now?"

Lauren's walk had a little bounce to it. "No," she said, "Louise is just her nickname."

happy birthday, dear kim

This morning the girls awakened Kim with cheers of "Happy birthday!" and little hands bearing gifts. Together, they held three envelopes they had made out of wrapping paper, and tied carefully with bows.

The first was from Lauren. Inside was a picture she drew just for her daddy. "Thank you!" Kim said, surveying the long row of red dots and a large, red triangle. "What is it?"

"It's firetrucks driving to a volcano."

"I love it."

"You're welcome."

The next was from Ella. Inside were four quarters. They were all state quarters, which makes me think that Ella has learned one of the secrets of successful gift giving: giving exactly what you would like yourself. (It was, however, easier in this case since the quarters came from states she has already filled on her collector's map.)

And finally, a poem from Ella:

"Rosis are reb,

Vilits are blu,

And all I love

is you, you, YOU, YOU, YOU."

I gave him a new Titleist/ASU hat. Much needed, and quite well-liked. It looks nice on him. And Mom and Dad bought him his all-time favorite gift for any occasion: a dozen golf balls.

He's at the driving range now, but we're dropping off the girls at the sitter and going to dinner tonight. I love birthdays!

great-grandpa's girl

Today I was on the phone when Audrey came to me holding out a plastic cup in one hand, and a pint of cream in the other.

a la cuisine!

I invited a family of dear friends over for Sunday dinner. Then Kim started getting work emails and locked himself in our room with his laptop. Such is life. So, I set about making chicken curry, rice, salad and rolls while cleaning up after myself, setting the table and entertaining two of my three small children. All in one hour. It was my own personal version of Iron Chef.

Happily, all of the food was ready at the same time. And the table was set. And the water was poured. And the children were dressed. Clean even. As we all sat down at the table, my friend Adrienne commented to the girls, "Your mom is so organized."

And without even an instant of hesitation Ella flatly replied, "It's not regular."

vandal

We've been vandalized. Every day this week. Several times a day. We've found markings on furniture, clothing, carpets and appliances, even our children. We've identified a suspect, but she won't talk. Her big brown eyes plead innocence, but her 2' 5" height matches the evidence. We hide the pens and markers. She finds them. We clean up after her. She tags her turf again. When she laughs, she laughs at us.

fleeced lightning

My dermatologist advised me to stop using dryer sheets awhile ago. Things get a little static-clingy (I'm losing a lot more socks) but are generally less itchy and, as I discovered last night, can also be more fun.

It was about 10:00 and Kim and I had just turned in when Lauren tiptoed into our room. I pretended to be asleep until I heard her whisper, "Mom."

"Yes?'

"I really can't sleep."

"What do you need, Lauren?" I waited for her inevitable request, then heard it whispered somewhere close to my ear.

"Can I snuggle with you?"

"Sure," I heard myself say. "Climb in." She happily hoisted herself onto the bed and wriggled under the covers. I knew what would come next.

"I'm hot," she said, kicking, then struggling. "I just. Need. To take off. My pajamas."

And then I saw it. With each kick of her heels against the sheets, Lauren set off a series of beautiful blue sparks that absolutely electrified her pajamas. It was like something from a sci-fi movie. In the darkened room I could just make out the silhouette of Lauren's jaw dropping.

"Lauren," I said, nearly as impressed as she was, "Do you think you have magic pajamas?"

She could barely manage the answer.

"Yes."

warm & cosi

Tonight was one of those nights. The dinner hour snuck up on me. So, with little time and less energy, I piled the girls in the car. Rather than hit a drive-thru, I chose Cosi - a little soup, salad and sandwich place with soft lighting, nice music and lots of upholstered furniture.

As we sat and waited for our food I surveyed Ella's outfit - the third or fourth she had tried on before leaving the house. She was wearing a sweater, over a dress, over jeans, accessorized with a grosgrain ribbon tied around her waist, a chunky necklace and mary janes. She has her own uninhibited style, that girl. I made a mental note to try to appreciate it when she's seventeen.

Our food arrived and the girls began enjoying their pizza, fruit cups and milk. Soon Ella was explaining the nuanced flavors in her food. Then she paused, turned to me, and said quite dramatically, "I was born for food . . . and fashion."

Our fun conversation was made even better when the manager brought us four chocolate chip cookies, on the house. Dining alone with three little girls has its advantages.

As we left, Lauren said to me, so genuinely as she always does, "Mom, thanks for taking us to Warm. It's a nice a place to be."

I laughed out loud at how completely adorable she is. "Did you mean Cosi?"

She laughed at herself, "Haha! Yes."

"You're welcome."