Of Bathtubs and the Land Octopus

As Ambriel sat in the bathtub getting her hair washed, she turned to me with an interesting theory.

A: I think I know where they got the idea for bathtubs.

Me: Oh really? Where?

A: Well, everyone was getting tired of having to just wash in the lake, cause that's all they had, and they didn't have soap. [thoughtful pause] Or they did have soap, but they didn't have anywhere to put it where it wouldn't all get used up at once, except on land. So they made bathtubs.

Now if I could just get her to tell me who "they" are, we'd be totally ready to contribute to the Wikipedia page on bathtubs...

Bonus story:

One of Ambriel's greatest features is her wild imagination, but like Anne Shirley before her, it can also get her into trouble. Especially on really dark nights when we are leaving a friend's house in the "country" that doesn't have all of the street lights that my little "city" girl is used to.

A: [following a lengthy discussion of why Christians can be killed or hurt but not turned into Zombies or other similar monsters] But what if someone came and TOOK you, Momma? What would happen to me then?

Me: Tell me the exact scenario you're afraid of and I will tell you what would really happen.

A: Okay. So. What if an octopus that lived on the land came up behind you and squeezed you really tightly with all those arms and put you somewhere, like a chair, but with something to hold you there. Because this is a really smart octopus that can think of things like that. And then he tried to turn you into one of him, what would happen then?

Me: [sigh] Well, first of all, an octopus can't live on the land because it wouldn't be able to move or breathe. The closest you could come is a spider, and even the biggest of those wouldn't be able to squeeze me. If you were with me, I would die before I would let anything hurt you, and if that happened, you would just get to live with one of the many people who love you and want what is best for you, and I would be fine because I would be in Heaven and could still watch over you.

A: [smiling tentatively] Alright. And you know, if it happened while we were at our friends' house, I could just stay with them! [smiling excitedly]

Me: [bigger sigh] Yes you could.

My reassurances, sadly, were only convincing until we reached home and she realized Daddy wasn't home and the dog was outside so a giant land octopus could easily be hiding in her closet. Sigh.

The Continuing Cactus Saga

I thought I would be writing more, but breaks can be so all consuming! I found myself telling this story again last night, however, and thought it was high time I shared it on here.

As we were packing all of our things to leave our apartment and head home for the summer, I found myself talking out loud listing all of the things I still needed to accomplish before we could leave. I wasn't necessarily directing this monologue toward Ambriel, but I discovered that she was definitely listening.

You see, one thing I was trying to calculate was how many more trips it would take me to load the car. I thought I could do it in just a few, when I remembered the cactus and started complaining about how difficult it would be to carry it and other things at the same time and saying how much I wished that she were able to carry it.

I sighed and continued with my labor, not giving the cactus another thought until about 40 minutes later when I was actually ready to carry it out to the car. My first clue that Ambriel had been busy was when my thumb slipped into the potting soil and got very wet. I was surprised and looked down to see what was going on. What I saw looked more like a small sea than the desert home of our little succulent.

Me: "Ambriel, did you water your cactus again?"

A: "Yes."

Me: "How much did you give it?!"

A: "Two full cups plus another half cup."

Me: "But you just watered it yesterday! Why did you give it so much?"

A: "Well, I thought you might decide to leave it here for the summer since you didn't want to carry it, and I didn't want it to get thirsty so I gave it LOTS of water to last a LONG time."

A clearly logical answer, I'll grant her, but I was sure it would be the death of the cactus. It ended up riding shot gun for the trip home so I had a front row seat to a demonstration of how vibrations cause liquefaction (thank you Dr. Frankovitz for the high school science lessons that still stick) i.e. the cactus was looking like the leaning tower of Pisa, held up only by its prickers sticking into my upholstery.

By the time we got home, the cactus had absorbed so much of the water that the pink bulb-y thing on top looked like it was going to burst, and Ambriel was crying quietly out of remorse for probably killing it. It was touch and go for a few days, but with the help of a few very sunny days,  the soil eventually dried out and our little pink pricker is still with us.

And I hope, Ambriel has learned an important lesson about watering in moderation.

Ambriel on Siblings

When I thought about becoming a parent as a kid, I always envisioned myself with four kids spaced two years apart so they could play board games together. In practice, however, I had to work pretty dang hard just to get one. Like most only children, she sometimes wonders why she doesn't have any siblings.

Lately, she's really been pressing to have a baby brother or sister who would be "Soooo cute!" and who she could help take care of. I usually direct her to take it up with God since I seem to have little control over it, but two weeks ago she got the chance to experience what siblings are like for real.

You see, Ambriel actually has three half siblings who live in FL whom she rarely sees. The oldest is a sister, just seven months younger than her, then comes her two and a half year old brother, and then her five month old sister. She had the chance to stay with them while I was at a couple of back to back academic conferences, so I wondered how she would feel about siblings by the end of her stay.

The last time she stayed with them, there were only the older two. She raved about her baby brother, who she said was sooo cute, but had little good to say about her sister, who she reported as just taking everything she wanted to play with. It appeared that this time would be similar, considering that she had already nearly slammed her sister's head in the bedroom door as she tried to get away from her for some "quiet time" before I had even left the house.

The phone call I got from her a few days later confirmed my suspicions: 

Ambriel: I changed my mind about siblings, Momma.

Me: Really? Why is that?

Ambriel: They're always getting up in my face and climbing on me and messing with my stuff. I really just want some peace and quiet. I know they're just trying to show me that they miss me and like me, but they DO NOT know how to do it!

My ex-husband even reported that by the end of the week, every time her siblings went outside to play, she would come inside, and every time they wanted to come inside, she would head outside. 

She did, however, report liking the newest addition. 

In light of that, I think she'll be best served by just playing with baby dolls for now. After all, they never grow up into obnoxious little takers of toys and attention. 

Why every academic writer should live with a 5 yr old.

So as Ambriel learned to talk and mastered that oh so enormous part of childhood question, "why?", I discovered that I'm the sort of parent who tries to answer every query honestly. While this has led to some sticky situations regarding fictional characters like Santa Claus and the Tooth Fairy, and has forced me to think carefully about which version of the truth I want her to know about, say, where babies come from, the biggest problem I've run into is that she asks about things I don't completely understand myself.

I think it was Gerald Graff who argued that if you can't explain your ideas in a way that someone who knows nothing about them can understand, then you probably don't have as firm a grasp on them as you think. I thought that I understood plenty about the world around me until I started trying to explain it to my daughter.

"How does the gas get from the pump into the car and how does it make the car run?"
"How does my blood work?"
"Why do I need shots to keep me from getting sick?"
"Why are there four seasons?"
"Why does water turn into ice?"
"How do chickens lay eggs?"

Now most of these may not seem like very difficult questions, but they've all given me trouble in their own  ways as I've struggled to find the right words, or realized that I don't know exactly how it works, only that it does. The moments when I don't know are great for teaching her about research, of course, but I hate the thought of losing my status as the all knowing parent, and I also worry about ruining the magic of childhood by making everything too clear and matter of fact.

Still, I was reassured yesterday when one of my explanations seemed to pay off. We've been talking recently about how actors pretend to be other people in order to make movies and shows for us to enjoy because she recognized the same actor in two different movies. I hadn't told her about voice actors, however. As we were watching Apollo 13, though, she cocked her head to one side and said, "He sure does sound a lot like Woody in Toy Story."
"That's because he is." I replied. "His real name is Tom Hanks and he recorded the voice of Woody."
"That's so COOL, Momma! I didn't know that people made the voices!"

I guess there is still some magic, even in how things really work :)

Conversation at 10:00 AM

Me: Hey lazy bones! Are you finally going to wake up?

Ambriel: (sleepy smile)

Me: We are going to have some serious trouble adjusting to the kindergarten schedule in the fall, I think.

Ambriel: Yeah. I'm a "sleep-in."

Me: But you need to be an early bird to make it in school.

Ambriel: But I'm a late bird, Momma!

Bonus conversation:

Me: It seems to be taking you a long time to eat your spaghetti tonight.

Ambriel: Well. Some nights are like that.

Bedtime Query

Just before bed tonight, Ambriel walked up to me holding a small rectangle of paper and asked

"Are you the bank manager?"

I of course burst out laughing because who expects such a question from a five-year-old, especially one whose mother does essentially all of her banking online and uses Kroger as an ATM. Seeing her frustration with me, however, I replied that I was if she wanted me to be. I then returned to reading random posts on facebook, absentmindedly answering the questions she continued to pose.

Ambriel: "What is 20 and 20?"

Me: "Mmm...40."

Ambriel: "What is 2 and 2?"

Me: "4"

Ambriel: "What is 30 and 30?"

Me: [long distracted pause]

Ambriel: [piercing stare into my skull]

Me: "What?"

Ambriel: "If you are going to be the bank manager, you need to know everything about letters!"

Me: "You mean numbers."

Ambriel: "Those, too!" [walks off in a huff]

How Elmo helped me teach my daughter the meaning of sarcasm.

Last night before bed, as we waited for her cold medicine to kick in so she could breathe/sleep, I asked Ambriel what she could remember of the car accident we were in when she was two-and-a-half. While her overall account had some major holes in it, I was thrilled that she mentioned how Elmo was being sarcastic (and yes, she used that word correctly and pronounced it beautifully) and making fun of Papa by telling him "Good job! Good job!"
For the sake of helping the rest of you to understand how Elmo helped me teach my daughter about sarcasm, I'll tell you the rest of the story.
On a beautiful August day, Ambriel and I were riding in the backseat of my parents car as we drove through West Virginia on the way home from helping my sister move to Florida. My dad was driving, my mom was navigating, Ambriel was sitting behind my dad, and I was next to her, trying to entertain her. Then, as my mom was attempting to take a drink from her water bottle and I was looking at Ambriel, my dad changed lanes to get around a slow car only to see a large, round metal piece off of a bull dozer tread. He had no time to brake or get back in the other lane, so he just centered the car to go over it and prayed we would clear it.
We did not. Instead, we went airborne, the air bags deployed, and we slowly skidded to a stop safely on the edge of the expressway. We grown-ups were pretty stunned, though unharmed, so Ambriel was the first to speak coherently when she cried "Papa's hat is on me and I'm all wet!"
I was confused at first, but then I realized that when the air bags went off, they knocked my dad's hat off his head and into her lap, and my mom's water bottle out of her hand and splashing all over Ambriel. We all started laughing a little then, and assured Ambriel that everything was okay. We all got out of the car, then, as we waited for the police and tow truck to come, but we heard a strange voice coming from the trunk of the car.
When my dad popped the trunk, we saw that the impact had shifted our luggage in such a way that Ambriel's talking Elmo potty, which said encouraging phrases when you pressed Elmo's hand for a "high 5" and which my mom had insisted we bring in case Ambriel had to "go" between rest stops, was wedged up against the inside of the trunk with his hand pressed so that he just kept repeating "Good job!" over and over. Again, we all laughed and told Elmo to ease up on my dad and stop being sarcastic.
Now I don't know if Ambriel really had any idea what we meant at the time, but she has heard us tell the story of how Grandma's Camry died, and Elmo is always a big part of the tale. I'm just impressed that she made the connection between that story and my explanations of my own sarcasm. I imagine I will be less impressed with this talent when she's a tween or teen aiming her sarcasm at me, but that's a worry for another day. ;0)

All from this morning...

"It's too bad our new cactus doesn't have any friends but us. Don't you think it would like another plant to play with?"

"I knew that was coming." (In response to a painful sounding cough)

"Could you please turn on the TV so that I can just relax? When it's on, I can get some rest."

More Ambrielisms

At Kroger:

"Look Momma! Free examples! Can I eat one?"

On her biological father:

"He's a good person. He's just not good with women."

On parental roles:

"Don't worry about that Daddy. You need to rest this weekend. Momma will take care of all of the work."

Love song to a cactus

Ambriel is currently singing to her new cactus plant with musical accompaniment on a recorder. We got the cactus in the hopes that it would be a house plant we couldn't kill, even with the limited sunlight and attention spans we can offer in our apartment. And because it is pink and green. We transplanted it into a bigger (pink) pot this afternoon, and, since I wouldn't let Ambriel do much of the dirty work, she decided she needed to do something to ensure the plant's health and prosperity.

Ambriel: (singing) "Oh, I love you cactus! You're so beautiful! You are pink, my favorite color, and green, my momma's favorite color!" (Non-note blowing on the recorder for several bars) "And here's my hamster, my new toy hamster! She loves you, too. So do I, even though you're not a toy and Momma says I shouldn't touch you, since you have prickers!" (More noise from the recorder)

There were about ten more verses to the song, but they were all pretty much the same.

She keeps reaching out to touch the top when she thinks I'm not looking. I'm afraid I have a regular Sleeping Beauty and spinning wheels kind of fascination on my hands. Perhaps we should have just killed another potted daisy...

Traffic

This is just a short post to please my husband:

Martin: Come on you two! You better hurry up and finish packing so we can get on the road. Do you like sitting in traffic?

Ambriel: (thoughtful pause) Well, no not really. I mean, it's okay if I'm inside a car, but it wouldn't be safe otherwise.

Ambriel on Love and Marriage

Many of you are already aware of Ambriel's recent preoccupation with her matrimonial future. It began, I believe, when I asked her who she would like to be the father of the many children she is continually planning to have. Her initial response, after some thought, was that she wants him to not have a wife.

Me: "Don't you think you'll be his wife?"

Ambriel: "Yeah, maybe. I just don't want him to have somebody else who is his wife."

I thought that was at least a good place to start as far as qualifications for a mate go, but she later seemed to abandon this particular criterion as she announced that she was going to marry Daddy when she grows up. Daddy seemed fine with this plan, but I did not approve. I realize I may just be a little overly sensitive on this topic, having already lost one husband to a younger woman, but I was adamant that I would not approve of being supplanted by my daughter. Ambriel tried to appease me by assuring that I would be allowed to continue living in the house with her and Daddy, as long as I traded rooms with her, but I would not negotiate.

Finally, she decided it wasn't worth upsetting me, so she started thinking about who else to marry. She considered the boys that she knows, rejecting some because she deemed them too lazy, too immature, or too argumentative (again, excellent criteria) and finally honed in on one boy: Ian.

Ambriel: "Ian is so manageable. He always plays whatever I want to play. And he's so little and cute! You should pat him on his head next time you see him."

Ian is only about 7 months younger than Ambriel, but he is rather diminutive in size, which has given her some pause for thought. I'm told she commented to one of my friends on the subject.

Ambriel: "I'm going to marry him someday, but he's smaller than me so I might die before he ever gets bigger than me. He's a small four; I'm a big four."

I can understand her concern, but I think she's wise to focus on compatibility of personality rather than physical traits. I'm also pretty sure it's serious because she told me she's planning to introduce Ian to Bean at her upcoming 5th birthday party. If he can still love her after that, I think they're in good shape.

Oh, and if you're wondering whether or not Ian knows he is the lucky man, Ambriel will be happy to discuss it with you.

Ambriel: "Oh, yes. He knows because I told him. We've already practiced our wedding."

Classic Ambrielisms

In order to prove to my husband that the title of my blog is, in fact, justified, here are some of my favorite classic Ambrielisms. Some of them have been on facebook, but some of them are brand new :)

On theology (and Kenneth Burke):
"God made the world to be a happy place, but then some bad guys, who NEVER say PLEASE, showed up."

"God's words can do anything, but Burke's can't! He's just a man (sneeringly)."

On illness:
"It's all my sickness's fault! I wish I could punch my sickness in the face!"

On bad behavior:
"I always do bad things, and when I do, I'm no better than an icky box of honey!"

"I don't like myself when I do bad things. I'm not good enough to be Ambriel Joy anymore. Just call me Icky Coconut."

(PS I always combat such statements with professions of love and reminders of her far more frequent good behavior. I don't want any of you thinking I'm actively working to destroy my child's self image.)

On naming invisible twins:
"Her name is Elizabeth" [Me: What about her sister?] "She's named after her sister. Well, they're named after each other. That way, no one has to worry about keeping straight which one is which."

On happiness:
"I'm as happy as a bee!"

"I feel so joyful and not cooped up!" (said while spinning in circles in the swimming pool.)

I'll report more later :)

How to tell if your child's perfectionism is likely to lead to a career in the arts

To really get this post, you must first understand how our little set-up works. Due to the expense of daycare and the state's refusal to let four-year-olds into kindergarten, Ambriel and I only spend about 15 hours a week apart. While this arrangement is great for alleviating my feelings of guilt over failing to be a stay at home mom, it means that all of my homework has to be completed with my little sidekick present.

Luckily for me, I am the Supreme Queen of Oblivion and can tune out just about anything when I'm really concentrating. Now before you go thinking that I'm bragging about some sort of superior discipline or focus, I should tell you that I inherited this trait directly from my father . You should never try to impart or gather essential information from either of us if we are watching television, reading, looking at something, completing a task, or even thinking intently unless you have first gotten us to make and hold eye contact and answer an initial question in a coherent manner. Just ask my mom how difficult it is to talk to us.

So when I'm sitting on my couch working on my laptop, I hardly hear the adventures of Dora, Angelina, Brother and Sister Bear, or Caillou in the background and I'm generally unaware of what exactly Ambriel is playing with her toys, even when some part of me is co-opted into the playing field. Ambriel has learned to put her hands on my cheeks to turn my head to look at her in order to bring me back into her world. She has also learned, however, that there are chinks in my armor of oblivion, like my ability to always hear if she is doing anything that is likely to end in broken bones, toys, or furniture.

Because of this oblivion, when I do emerge from an academic fog, from the need to eat or go somewhere, I have a tendency to just start talking without any regard for what Ambriel is doing at the moment. As an obedient child, she usually jumps up and does whatever I ask her to do, but occasionally she gets really frustrated.

Ambriel: Fishsticks, Momma! You made me forget what I was saying!

Me: What do you mean?

Ambriel: I was about to make my doll say something, but now I can't remember what it was! (glaring)

Me: Well I'm sure you can think of something else for her to say.

Ambriel: No! I can't. That was the perfectest thing she was going to say and nothing else will ever be as good. Ever! You've ruined my life!

Me: Don't you think you're being a bit dramatic?

Ambriel: (crossed arms and sulkiness)

Now I know she says she's going to be a veterinarian, a doctor, and a super hero, but I think her overreactions to anyone interrupting her creative process point to something just a bit more artsy and temperamental, probably in Hollywood :)

Survival Guide for Children with "Invisibles"

As Ambriel and I headed into Target yesterday, she informed me that several of her "kids" had come with us to take care of their errands. I smiled and murmured, "That's nice" as I tried to remember what all was on the list I didn't bring. When I pulled out a cart, I noticed Ambriel lifting her arms over the cart in what I assumed was a nonverbal request to be lifted in. I offered to do so, but she laughed and told me she was just putting her "kids" in the cart.

Well that makes perfect sense. We proceeded through the store, but soon one of the "kids" who hadn't gotten in at first decided to ride as well. I obligingly stopped the cart to let her lift him in, and smiled at the confused look on a fellow customer's face as he watched us. By the time we made it into housewares, Ambriel was regaling me with the life story of the new "kids" she had found in the parking lot who were very poor and had no "owner." I nodded along with an occasional "Oh really?" or "That's interesting," even agreeing to be their new mother, as I searched for an inexpensive set of hand mixers.

Once again, I noticed that other customers seemed to be puzzled by what they were overhearing. While I didn't take the time to explain the situation to them, I thought perhaps I could help others in the future by creating a survival guide for dealing with children with "invisibles" and sharing it with all of you.

Here goes:

DO -- Call them "invisible" not "imaginary." Ambriel has always been adamant about using "the word that means they're real but you just can't see them." It's impossible to convince them otherwise, so save your strength for arguments you can win. They'll eventually figure it out on their own. Probably.

DO -- Go with the flow. Ask questions about the invisibles until they get bored with the game and move on. You don't want to fight it and end up looking like the mother from "Drop Dead Fred."

DON'T -- Slam doors too quickly or flop down on chairs while the invisibles are present. Taking an extra moment to check on their whereabouts can save you the embarrassment of a public apology for sitting on or crushing the fingers of an invisible. Trust me on this one.

DON'T -- Obsess over the mental health of the child. While occasionally laying awake at night calculating the future expense of therapy (or defense attorneys) is normal for parents of such children, it is usually best to just decide to be entertained by this behavior.

DO -- Choose to believe that invisibles are a sign of intelligence and creativity. I have no idea if it's true, but it's a great statement for encouraging parents or covering your butt when your first instinct is to exclaim "What the heck is wrong with that child!?"

DON'T -- Allow children to get away with blaming bad behavior on their invisibles. When they try, inform them that if they want to take their invisibles with them anywhere, they are responsible for their actions. If the invisibles cannot behave, they are no longer welcome in your car/house/store etc. Fantasy is one thing, deviant behavior is quite another.

DO -- Enjoy it while it lasts.

I was surprised to find myself a little devastated this morning when Ambriel confessed to me sheepishly that "Bean (the invisible who's been with us the longest) isn't real. She's in my imagination. I made her up as a story to tell you." I wrestled with what to say, then said, "I know." I guess I've been following my own advice well because she looked up, shocked, and asked "Because Mommas know everything?"

Not exactly, but close. :-)

Snippets of nighttime conversation

Had the child informed me that she was only going to sleep soundly until about 3:30am, I might have tried harder to overcome my insomnia prior to that time, but alas, my first clue was when she heard me sneaking back from the kitchen (I had just clandestinely eaten a cookie) and called to me with a smile, "Come here to me, Momma Fox!" and then instructed me to call her "my Baby Fox."

I assumed since she appeared to immediately be sleeping again that she was really just talking in the midst of a dream, as she often does, but I was wrong. She was actually gearing up for NIGHT OF NEEDINESS 2011!!! (Please use a monster truck announcer voice as you read that.)

It began small with comments like, "I really don't feel very well. Could you get me a tissue and do nose spray? That always helps my nose to work." At that stage, I felt very motherly and didn't mind continuing to be awake to take care of her, especially when she told me "You're the bestest for when I need something, and you're the bestest momma I've ever known and the only one I have." Even when she blundered into a statement that sounded like she thought Daddy was really more compassionate, she recovered well with a diplomatic answer to soothe my ego while still praising my choice in husbands.

I was feeling pretty good about my maternal instincts, but as the night wore on, my exhaustion started to take over. I propped her up on pillows to help with drainage, handed her her own tissue to wipe her own nose, and told her that we both needed rest. She would stay quiet briefly, but the moment I drifted off to sleep, she would comment again on the unpleasantness of illness, and I would once again be wide awake. This did not promote motherly affection.

Finally, she fell into a restful sleep again, and so did I, for a few hours. Unfortunately, a few hours has never been enough for me to function in a rational and considerate manner, so when she awoke and started describing her symptoms again, I was less than attentive.

Ambriel: My tummy hurts like it did yesterday, and my sneezes make the snot explode out of me, and      my coughing is the worstest: it makes everything hurt.

Me: Hmmm, mmmm.

Ambriel: Momma?

Me: Hmmm?

Ambriel: Don't you want to help me?!

Me: (hesitation) Yeeees.

Ambriel: No you don't! And I know why: 'cause the sneezes and coughs don't want you to. They want me to stay sick FOREVER. Is that what you want?!

Me: (hesitation) Noooo.

Ambriel: I'm a little too tired to get a yogurt. Could you get me one?

Me: (dozing off)

Ambriel: MOMMA! Don't you love me anymore?

Me: (hesitation followed by guilt and an attempt to muster the strength to stand and walk.)

So I got up and got her a yogurt. Then I put her in the bathtub, because she believes warm water can cure any ill, which is how I snuck away to tell you all about my night :)

She's calling, though.

Ambriel: Momma, I don't want to be a prune-y raisin!

Why teaching a child healthy eating habits may not be such a great idea after all.

Since my own healthy living awakening occurred during her infancy, I have been trying to teach my daughter how to live a healthy lifestyle. One concept that has really sunk in with her is the idea of "fun foods" or "sometimes treats." I don't believe I've ever seen her finish an entire small order of fries, and she has turned down numerous cookies from grown-ups because she "already had a treat today."

This sounds great, until I'm having one of those days where popcorn or french fries end up being the main part of lunch, but she won't finish because she doesn't want to be unhealthy. I have to listen to complaints of hunger through the rest of our errands because I didn't think ahead to pack organic apples or whole grain, natural peanut butter, no high-fructose corn syrup jelly sandwiches.

Additionally, now when I fall off the wagon and just want to eat cake, or pie, or cookies, or some combination of the three, I have a little external, spectacled conscience telling me that those aren't good choices for me and I should just go get a piece of fruit to eat.

So, if I want to indulge anyway, I have to find a way to grocery shop without my nearly 24/7 companion, hide the contraband in places she can't reach even with a chair, and then manage to consume it while she is sleeping or completely distracted. It's almost not worth it. Almost.

Disturbingly chipper

Ambriel began her day today around 7am when she crawled into my bed and promptly went back to sleep. Having suffered insomnia last night, I welcomed the chance to sleep in, but started feeling disturbed when 11:05 rolled around and she was still sound asleep. She was smiling as if having wonderful dreams, when suddenly her eyes popped open, she grinned, and threw her arms around my neck. I was immediately suspicious, as I don't believe any amount of sleeping in justifies such bouncy behavior so soon after waking up, especially when she is supposed to be sick right now. 

My distrust had the desired effect of dampening her spirits temporarily, but she was soon dancing behind me in the kitchen, as I made breakfast and the all important coffee, singing "Questions are for answering, Momma. Questions need answers!" 

Well I have a question: how was such a perky child made from my genetic material? 

Let's give this a shot.

Forgive me for indulging in the belief that other people might like hearing more in depth stories of my adventures with my daughter. If it's a colossal failure, perhaps it will teach me humility.