A friend of mine who has two daughters around my pumpkin's age just had a new baby, so today I was explaining that she was just born and next time we saw them the baby wouldn't be in her mommy's belly anymore. This was examined thoroughly by the small one.
"Will she be little?" she inquired.
"Yes, she'll be very little."
"Can I play with her?"
"Not really. You know how Elijah's little sister just lays in her seat?" (This is what I refer to as the "hotdog" stage)
"Yeah..."
"Well, the new baby will do that, too. But we can still go look at her when she gets big enough to come home."
"And I can sing her a song and play with her toes?" Now she's getting it. I encouraged this and other age appropriate interactions for a few more minutes and then she decided she had more questions to clear up.
"Is the baby Ryleigh's sister?"
"Yep! You're right!" I answered.
"Where's your sister?" She continued.
"Mommy doesn't have a sister." I start sweating.
"Where's my sister?" Now I'm sweating profusely.
"You don't have a sister either." The child has already asked for puppies and kittens for Christmas. I'm sure a baby is about to be next, and I just don't feel like discussing that one with her. She spent so long coming up with this reply, I almost threw up:
"I do have a sister. My bear is my sister." Phew. Works for me! And we're right on to the next subject:
"Mommy, was I little?"
"Yes baby, you were almost as little as Ryleigh's new sister."
"Awwwww," she replied. Then followed with: "And I used to bark when I was a dog!"
Wow.
Saturday, November 21, 2009
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
Still Cruddy...
Well...the kid is officially tired of fending for herself. When I drug myself into her room to get her out of bed this morning, she said "is Grammy here?" When I replied "Nope," she said "Where's my daddy?" I informed her he was working, and she made me feel a LOT better:
"So it's just you?"
Thanks, kid. Thanks a lot. She at least asked if I was still sick and said she's get some cream to make me feel better.
I guess we'll be in front of the tv again today.
"So it's just you?"
Thanks, kid. Thanks a lot. She at least asked if I was still sick and said she's get some cream to make me feel better.
I guess we'll be in front of the tv again today.
Monday, November 2, 2009
First Crud of the Year
Today was supposed to be an adventure. It's one of the last warm days that we're supposed to have for awhile, but I'm pretty sure I have the crud that the rest of my family has already had. Mom has been coughing up...well...everything (I think there was some lung tissue in there last time I checked) for about two weeks. It all started with a sore throat...which I now have.
So today our adventure consists of endless episodes of Little House on the Prairie and Veggie Tales. Oh, sure, we could turn off the TV and read some books. Still a pretty sedentary activity...except the part where I have to use my brain. Considering that everything from my brain to my big toe aches, I have ceased all activity that isn't life sustaining for the child. (Like throwing food at her occasionally.) It's a good thing she can "do it herself." Today I will not argue with that statement.
**Side note: I'm so lucky that I have a two-year-old that loves Little House. And she really does. She knows all the characters by name, much of the plot line, and can even sing the theme pretty accurately. (Which is more impressive when you consider that it has no words.) I really appreciate this about my child, because I would watch it all day long. Wait...I have watched it all day long before. Dad bought mom the whole wagon of DVDs last year for Christmas, and me and mom have watched them straight through to season seven. I don't know what I'll do when we finish season nine. I think a little piece of me will die. I mean, it's such a good show, and in the words of a dear friend, "that Michael Landon sure isn't hard to look at either." Anyway...
Back to my original ramble: My soreness was tripled this morning when I fell down the last four steps of our staircase on my way to the kitchen to throw a poptart at the kid. I was carrying her at the time (of course.) But she fared quite nicely, because I landed on my knees and elbows with her cradled safely against me, baby bjorn style. I don't think her robe even touched the ground. Of course she cried anyway. Not that I can blame her. It must have been terrifying for her, considering I didn't even know I was falling until I realized "Man! My knees hurt!" and then noted my odd position. "Hm. I must have fallen. This isn't what I normally look like when I finish coming down the stairs."
Maybe today will be adventurous after all.
The Veggies are wrapping it up. Time to change DVDs and throw some cheese and raisins. (I wonder if she can reach those herself?) I may have to drag myself back upstairs and dry my hair. I can't decide which is worse...the ridiculous weight of my wet hair or the effort it takes to hold a hairdryer. One thing is certain: this upright position at the computer is going to have to stop.
So today our adventure consists of endless episodes of Little House on the Prairie and Veggie Tales. Oh, sure, we could turn off the TV and read some books. Still a pretty sedentary activity...except the part where I have to use my brain. Considering that everything from my brain to my big toe aches, I have ceased all activity that isn't life sustaining for the child. (Like throwing food at her occasionally.) It's a good thing she can "do it herself." Today I will not argue with that statement.
**Side note: I'm so lucky that I have a two-year-old that loves Little House. And she really does. She knows all the characters by name, much of the plot line, and can even sing the theme pretty accurately. (Which is more impressive when you consider that it has no words.) I really appreciate this about my child, because I would watch it all day long. Wait...I have watched it all day long before. Dad bought mom the whole wagon of DVDs last year for Christmas, and me and mom have watched them straight through to season seven. I don't know what I'll do when we finish season nine. I think a little piece of me will die. I mean, it's such a good show, and in the words of a dear friend, "that Michael Landon sure isn't hard to look at either." Anyway...
Back to my original ramble: My soreness was tripled this morning when I fell down the last four steps of our staircase on my way to the kitchen to throw a poptart at the kid. I was carrying her at the time (of course.) But she fared quite nicely, because I landed on my knees and elbows with her cradled safely against me, baby bjorn style. I don't think her robe even touched the ground. Of course she cried anyway. Not that I can blame her. It must have been terrifying for her, considering I didn't even know I was falling until I realized "Man! My knees hurt!" and then noted my odd position. "Hm. I must have fallen. This isn't what I normally look like when I finish coming down the stairs."
Maybe today will be adventurous after all.
The Veggies are wrapping it up. Time to change DVDs and throw some cheese and raisins. (I wonder if she can reach those herself?) I may have to drag myself back upstairs and dry my hair. I can't decide which is worse...the ridiculous weight of my wet hair or the effort it takes to hold a hairdryer. One thing is certain: this upright position at the computer is going to have to stop.
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