Lucy has a little stuffed Elmo doll (no, he does not giggle, or tickle, or burp. He's just stuffed, with hard plastic eyes.) that is often at the center of a lot of her adventures. Today she walked into the kitchen, cradling him in her arms.
"Elmo crying. He fell on tile. So hard. Lucy make him feel better."
"Oh, Lucy," I said. "I bet he feels a lot better with you caring for him."
"Uh-huh," she said, and carried him over to the sliding-glass door. "You feel better, Elmo?"
I turned around, my heart warmed by my daughter's sweetness.
Then I heard a thunk.
When I looked back, Elmo was on the floor, his eyes having hit the hard tile.
"Oh, Elmo," Lucy said. "You fell. Lucy make you feel better." She picked him back up and shushed him.
I chuckled, then stopped. Because a minute later, she held him at arms length and deliberately dropped him on the floor. Then she hit his head against the floor a couple times to make sure he really needed someone to take care of him.
Sheesh, Lucy. Munchausen's by proxy already? And you can't even tie shoes yet.
Thursday, April 23, 2009
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
welcome to the family
Lucy has a baby bird. It is a baby crow. She likes holding it in her hands while we're in the car. And also when we're walking in the parking lot. If I need her to hold my hand, I tell her to put the baby bird in her pocket.
Is it clear yet this is a pretend bird?
On the way home, she was talking to her baby bird. Then, she yelled, "Mama!!"
I was about to respond when she added, "Bird!!!"
Then again. "Mama...bird!!"
More indecipherable words. Then, to me, "Baby bird crying for her mama. Found her mama. Mama with her!"
"Oh, Lucy, how nice," I said. "I bet the baby bird feels much better now."
"Huh, yeah," she said.
Then a minute later. "Dada! Dada! Bird!"
"Did the baby bird find her dada, too?" I said.
"Yeah. Now have Mama and Dada."
Nice and nuclear, I thought.
But then, a minute later...
"Grandma! Grandma bird!"
Is it clear yet this is a pretend bird?
On the way home, she was talking to her baby bird. Then, she yelled, "Mama!!"
I was about to respond when she added, "Bird!!!"
Then again. "Mama...bird!!"
More indecipherable words. Then, to me, "Baby bird crying for her mama. Found her mama. Mama with her!"
"Oh, Lucy, how nice," I said. "I bet the baby bird feels much better now."
"Huh, yeah," she said.
Then a minute later. "Dada! Dada! Bird!"
"Did the baby bird find her dada, too?" I said.
"Yeah. Now have Mama and Dada."
Nice and nuclear, I thought.
But then, a minute later...
"Grandma! Grandma bird!"
Saturday, April 11, 2009
John Jacob Jingleheimer...
This is a song I never heard growing up. Dyami learned it, but not "There was an old lady who swallowed a fly" or "Frere Jaque". I guess we're even.
It's got a catchy little melody* (love the "dah dah dah's" at the end) and funny words. Plus, it's kind of women's lib-ish, what with the hyphenated name.
In other words, perfect for a children's song.
Except.
Except the way "Schmidt" gets pronounced by a two-year-old. Very loudly.
I guess we won't be doing public performances any time soon.
*Is it just me, or is this a very, very odd rendition of this song? 1. It's really slow. 2. The guy is singing in a contra-bass range. All of which makes this snappy march sound kind of like a dirge. I'm very sorry to hear that Mr. Jingleheimer-Schmidt died just when I was getting to know him.
However, I like that for once a song demo isn't done with midi-horns. So that's something.
It's got a catchy little melody* (love the "dah dah dah's" at the end) and funny words. Plus, it's kind of women's lib-ish, what with the hyphenated name.
In other words, perfect for a children's song.
Except.
Except the way "Schmidt" gets pronounced by a two-year-old. Very loudly.
I guess we won't be doing public performances any time soon.
*Is it just me, or is this a very, very odd rendition of this song? 1. It's really slow. 2. The guy is singing in a contra-bass range. All of which makes this snappy march sound kind of like a dirge. I'm very sorry to hear that Mr. Jingleheimer-Schmidt died just when I was getting to know him.
However, I like that for once a song demo isn't done with midi-horns. So that's something.
Sunday, April 5, 2009
gardening, revisited
Okay, so last year, I planted a garden with much fanfare and anticipation. I got sproutlings!
And then not much more.
The onions were little mini onions. I also grew four tiny fennel plants, big enough for Lucy's Elmo doll! If he were to eat fennel!
Also the tomato plants, which I planted from seedlings. From those I got about ten tomatoes. Of which, more than half were eaten by possums.
And one strawberry (or two!) every couple weeks.
Let's not talk about how much I spent on compost/plant material/etc. It wasn't a ton, but for twelve strawberries and two tomatoes, it was Too Much.
Lessons learned: there is no "really sunny spot" in my yard, okay? There just isn't. The plants, they'll sprout, but they're just not going to go crazy.
But! I think my garden may be redeeming itself.
Exhibit A. The thyme plant that looked emaciated and mite-ridden all last summer? It has decided to stay, even after my terrible watering habits over the winter!
Exhibit B. Those strawberry plants? They, too, look fat and bushy after a whole year's growing. Yay for perennials!
Exhibit C. The kicker! I invested in heirloom tomatoes last year, which caused me to kick myself when they proved to be less-than-hardy and half-eaten by rodents. (Marsupials? What the heck are possums, anyway?) But! Today I looked around the base of my garden, and there were no fewer than six sprouted tomato plants from seeds that fell from my lost fruit last year! Thanks, non-hybrid plants! And I didn't even have to do anything to get them to come up from seed. Plus, they're heirlooms! And this time I'm going to invest in some netting/electric fencing to keep away the critters! As soon as I get around to it.
In honor of my garden, today I bought a few basil plants, a few more strawberry plants, and a mint plant*. Now I'm going to plant them all and lean back and enjoy my kitchen garden. Which has resurrected itself just in time for Easter.
* Of course, one shouldn't be too cocky. Proof of a less-than-green thumb: I have managed to kill about three mint plants. These are plants that are supposed to be indestructible. Hmmm.
And then not much more.
The onions were little mini onions. I also grew four tiny fennel plants, big enough for Lucy's Elmo doll! If he were to eat fennel!
Also the tomato plants, which I planted from seedlings. From those I got about ten tomatoes. Of which, more than half were eaten by possums.
And one strawberry (or two!) every couple weeks.
Let's not talk about how much I spent on compost/plant material/etc. It wasn't a ton, but for twelve strawberries and two tomatoes, it was Too Much.
Lessons learned: there is no "really sunny spot" in my yard, okay? There just isn't. The plants, they'll sprout, but they're just not going to go crazy.
But! I think my garden may be redeeming itself.
Exhibit A. The thyme plant that looked emaciated and mite-ridden all last summer? It has decided to stay, even after my terrible watering habits over the winter!
Exhibit B. Those strawberry plants? They, too, look fat and bushy after a whole year's growing. Yay for perennials!
Exhibit C. The kicker! I invested in heirloom tomatoes last year, which caused me to kick myself when they proved to be less-than-hardy and half-eaten by rodents. (Marsupials? What the heck are possums, anyway?) But! Today I looked around the base of my garden, and there were no fewer than six sprouted tomato plants from seeds that fell from my lost fruit last year! Thanks, non-hybrid plants! And I didn't even have to do anything to get them to come up from seed. Plus, they're heirlooms! And this time I'm going to invest in some netting/electric fencing to keep away the critters! As soon as I get around to it.
In honor of my garden, today I bought a few basil plants, a few more strawberry plants, and a mint plant*. Now I'm going to plant them all and lean back and enjoy my kitchen garden. Which has resurrected itself just in time for Easter.
* Of course, one shouldn't be too cocky. Proof of a less-than-green thumb: I have managed to kill about three mint plants. These are plants that are supposed to be indestructible. Hmmm.
Monday, March 23, 2009
on a more serious note
I just watched this video: a 13 year old interviews his 80-something year old grandmother. Interesting, and bittersweet, except for the part where he asks what the hardest part of the Depression was for her.
Then it was just wrenching.
She stopped, looks down, and her face crumples. "When we didn't have enough to eat," she said.
This was seventy years ago, and the memory is still so painful that she can't even say it without crying.
God, it makes my heart ache. How many people in this world live that pain every day?
Then it was just wrenching.
She stopped, looks down, and her face crumples. "When we didn't have enough to eat," she said.
This was seventy years ago, and the memory is still so painful that she can't even say it without crying.
God, it makes my heart ache. How many people in this world live that pain every day?
Thursday, March 19, 2009
kiddie performance art
My friend Todd (also famous because of this) demonstrated one good use for electronic toys. Enjoy.
Saturday, March 14, 2009
Lucy's favorite story
It's a true one. (Really).
1. In which the small woodland creatures perpetrate a home invasion.
Once upon a time, Dyami left the door open. The sliding glass door to the living room, because our cat is annoying, and in the warm summer months, wants to go in and/or out every five minutes (Yes, it was locked in the ajar position).
So, we went to bad with the door open. And then, we woke up to a very loud crunching sound. Something was eating our cat's food. Except it didn't sound like our cat.
2. In which man and beast face off.
We went into the kitchen to see what (the heck) was making the noise. Flipped on the light and saw a very small (tiny!) baby possum that somehow managed to sound like a bulldozer when eating kibble.
The possum blinked. And then it turned and ran underneath our dishwasher.
3. Enter the robotic car.
Dyami didn't want to reach underneath the dishwasher, or even go anywhere close to the dishwasher. I didn't want him to either. Possums, even baby ones, have very sharp claws/teeth.
So the obvious solution was to go get our small, remote-controlled yellow car and send it underneath the dishwasher to try to scare the baby possum back out the door from whence it came.
Naturally.
4. Vrooom.
Dyami expertly maneuvers the car underneath the dishwasher. Zoom! (sound of squealing breaks)
Where it gets stuck.
Along with the baby possum.
5. In which we go back to bed.
We looked at each other, shrugged, opened the kitchen sliding door, and turned off the lights.
Oh, and we also shut the door to our bedroom.
6. In which there is a tearful reunion (we think).
In the morning, the possum was gone. We tell Lucy that it went outside and found its momma and dadda.
Or it took the tiny car on a joyride, returned it to the dishwasher, and then wrote a memoir.
Either way, we decided to stop leaving the door open.
In the morning,
1. In which the small woodland creatures perpetrate a home invasion.
Once upon a time, Dyami left the door open. The sliding glass door to the living room, because our cat is annoying, and in the warm summer months, wants to go in and/or out every five minutes (Yes, it was locked in the ajar position).
So, we went to bad with the door open. And then, we woke up to a very loud crunching sound. Something was eating our cat's food. Except it didn't sound like our cat.
2. In which man and beast face off.
We went into the kitchen to see what (the heck) was making the noise. Flipped on the light and saw a very small (tiny!) baby possum that somehow managed to sound like a bulldozer when eating kibble.
The possum blinked. And then it turned and ran underneath our dishwasher.
3. Enter the robotic car.
Dyami didn't want to reach underneath the dishwasher, or even go anywhere close to the dishwasher. I didn't want him to either. Possums, even baby ones, have very sharp claws/teeth.
So the obvious solution was to go get our small, remote-controlled yellow car and send it underneath the dishwasher to try to scare the baby possum back out the door from whence it came.
Naturally.
4. Vrooom.
Dyami expertly maneuvers the car underneath the dishwasher. Zoom! (sound of squealing breaks)
Where it gets stuck.
Along with the baby possum.
5. In which we go back to bed.
We looked at each other, shrugged, opened the kitchen sliding door, and turned off the lights.
Oh, and we also shut the door to our bedroom.
6. In which there is a tearful reunion (we think).
In the morning, the possum was gone. We tell Lucy that it went outside and found its momma and dadda.
Or it took the tiny car on a joyride, returned it to the dishwasher, and then wrote a memoir.
Either way, we decided to stop leaving the door open.
In the morning,
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