Archives for the month of: June, 2012

She worked and wrestled with the sweater, finally getting one arm in – no matter if it was the wrong arm and the whole sweater was upside down.

To get both arms in, she appealed to Daddy. He straightened her out and she got the sweater on, in the way its makers intended.

“I will not be too chilly,” she said, marching towards the front door and preparing to go outside. Into eighty degree weather.

With only her undies on the bottom.

 

Not too chilly, indeed.

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“What’s in your mouth?”

This is a game mothers and toddlers have been playing for – well, as long as there have been mothers and toddlers. Mothers hope that food and only food will make it to the mouths of their toddlers, and toddlers come equipped with magnets in their hands and mouths, pulling the two together, often and inexorably. This means that many non-food items cover that bit of space between hand and mouth. Last week, both lotion and a few crystals of dishwasher detergent made that journey. Poison control said she should be fine, and she was.

So, the question came with many precedents, and when she came to me as I was unpacking clothes in our bedroom, I had good reason to worry.

“What’s in your mouth?”

“Peas!”

“Please?” As something was already in her mouth, I didn’t know why she had said “please.” Nothing to ask permission for at this point, was there? The damage was done.

I hadn’t left her a cup of blueberries or Goldfish or any of the usual snacking suspects. We’ve moved into a new place, and things are everywhere – even more everywhere than usual. What was in her mouth? What had she found lying where it shouldn’t be?

“Show me.”

Taking my hand, she led me from the bedroom, down the hallway, and through the family room to the edge of the kitchen. She lifted the lid of the red trashcan and pointed at the heap of peas which I had dumped there that morning after they had spent nearly a week in the fridge.

Ah. Peas. She meant exactly what she said.

In a tone so sweet that cotton candy would have seemed bitter in comparison, she asked, “You want some, Mama?”

Her eyes were wide; her face shone with generosity. She was willing to share her treasure trove. In the face of so much earnest interest in sharing with her mama, so much hope, so much expectation, what could I say?

No recent picture replicates the way she looks in her moments of earnest generosity

“No thank you, honey.”

At least she was eating her vegetables.