Thursday, October 24, 2013

Three.

My favorite age with my kids.  Three.  This is when the fun just gets more fun.
 
Three.  This was the age when Emma's friend, Spacey, came over all the time to visit with her friend Jack.  They lived in a black van by the river.  They would always call first, and then come over to play or even eat supper with us.  Now we are blessed to have "Tomtee" in our life.  He is four and came over to play yesterday.  Sometimes he lets "Tootoo," talk to us on the phone also.  Hope and Tomtee seem to get along perfectly.  They are pictured together in the above picture.  Isn't he a gem...he's standing to Hope's right.
Three.  They talk, walk, and imagine all the while.  Writing and reading, learning day after day.  Just this past week, I was teaching Hope our address.  We played a game of repeat.  I would say 2-5, then she would...me, 7-5....her repeat.  We got to Wolverine Way, she giggled and replied, "dat is way to big, nope."  I laugh and end the game.  Not but two seconds later without my prompt, I hear from the backseat, "....and Zionsville is too big too, so I'm not going to say it eider." Well, Ok Hope, have it way, don't say it.
Three.  When crayons, paper, and a pair of scissors can be a blank canvas.  Blank for about 30 seconds that is.  "Look mommy, I draw papaw's barn.  Look mommy, I draw Mickey Mouse.  Look mommy, I make a maze.  Look mommy, I dink I cut my hair."
Three.  Standing tall and standing proud.  And standing however big sister, Emma is.  Singing all her songs, dancing all the same moves.  One would think the new Disney movie, Teen Beach Movie, was just for those preteens.  Nope.  We got a three year that will take the stage every time.
 Three.  When you find them off playing with the dollhouse and making the dolls talk to one another in that high squeeky pitched voice.  And speaking of talking, how about that three year old asking the 50-something lady standing behind us at the checkout, "What's your name?"  Then proceeds to look at her same aged husband and say, "What's your daddy's name?" 
Three.  I love it.  The imagination, the spark, the energy, but let's face it...it really is that wad of cuteness that 30 minutes before the alarm clock goes off gets out of bed and comes down to climb in your bed.  She get her face so close to your groggy-half-asleep face, that you can almost feel her mile long eye lashes sweep your nose.  Then the silence is broken.  "Mommy, I love hugging you.  I love kissing you."  [heart melt]  "Now gimmie dat arm!"  She swoops in, steals your left arm nearly breaking it off, and cuddles down as she fits 100% perfectly next to your side.  27 more minutes till that alarm goes off...what a great way to start another day with a three year old.

Tuesday, October 15, 2013

Kinda corney.

After a fun morning at Stuckey Farm's Fall Harvest last Saturday, we sat down to eat lunch. Hope has on her usual eating attire of just shirt and underwear.  Her cute shortness just barely puts her head at plate level, however Miss Independent is way over using a booster seat.  So to accommodate her wonderful table manners, we have allowed her to sit on her knees.  And yes, as parents, sometimes we must choose our battles, so occasionally she "squats" on her feet on the bench.  (A yoga pose to make any adult jealous, so quite frankly I think why not let the little master of posture sit this way at the table.)

Anyhow...in her squatting position, she takes a few bites of her lasagna and makes a painful face.  With that face she starts putting her hand in places that...well...that no lady should, dinner table or not.  She continues to "scratch" front and back with an unpleasant face.  I ask her what is wrong and our lovely answers, "there's something in my hiney."  Keep in mind to my three year old hiney is a term used for the whole anatomy under the panties - edge to edge, front to back.  So my motherly duty does a quick search and there is nothing to be seen in the hiney region.  Can we please just get on with lunch now?! Yes, thank you.

Midway through our always entertaining lunch, we hear a noise from the bench Hope is sitting on.  A weird noise.  A noise like something just fell out of her and tapped a landing on the bench?  uhhhhhhh......

Yep.  Right there, my daughter laid a nice orangeish-yellow kernel of corn.  Right out of her hiney.
Guess the girl wasn't kiddin' huh?

The moral of this story?  Well, there is none.  But we now know, when you spend part of  your morning making snow angels in a sandbox of corn you better check your hiney before squatting for lunch.

Friday, October 11, 2013

5-6 freeze

The normal craziest hour of the day 5:00-6:00.  If you have ever called and wondered why I never answer the phone, it's because supper is cooking, Hope just woke up and is demanding a drink or a snack or her hinny wiped, Emma is stuck on a homework problem or wanting me to look at this or look at that, the dog has to be let in and out to pee 17 times during this hour, and Adam isn't home yet.  Yep.  That's about something like it.

But yesterday I felt that tug on my pants as I was peeling tomatoes for another seasonal meal.  "Hang on Hope," my usual response.  She keeps tugging, keeps nagging, my brain hears it all along with a barking dog and Emma practicing the guitar yelling, "did you hear me?"

Freeze.
What's that?

Hope is handing me a paper. 
On it is some scribbles and three very clear letters that make my world freeze.

MOM

"Look mommy, I spelled your name!"  After my hearts skips a beat, I kneel down eye to eye with her.  "You sure did.  And I love it."  We celebrated. She was so proud.  I was so proud.  It now adorns our fridge with bottle cap magnets framing it.  It was if the whole hour was on mute.
These are the moments that make every ear-ringing 5-6 hour worth it.



Monday, October 7, 2013

The Princess and the Frog

Hello little ugly frog in our garage. I'd becareful...behind you is a pink boot...
...and in that pink boot is a princess.  A princess with a stick...ur, um, I mean magic wand.


And just when you turn your back, little froggie, that princess will exchange that magic wand for a shovel. 
No kisses or prince here.  Just a princess in her pajamas and pink boots, sad, very sad, almost-in-tears-sad, that we don't have a pond to put the frog in...because, "his mommy frog is in the pond and sad her baby frog is missing and we can't help get him there 'cause we don't have a pond." 
Eat your heart out Disney film makers....eat your heart out.