Lanie has quite a dental history already at only five years old. We are extra vigilant with her teeth, brushing twice a day, flossing, flouride rinse. She has had a tough road and has some pretty vivid, yucky memories from the dentist's office.
Today was a cleaning. As we drove there, she sat in silence. Then uttered a simple thought on a complex emotion in the best way she knew how:
"Mommy, sometimes when my heart beats really fast, it makes my body want to run away."
She was so nervous. Fortunately, it was a quick cleaning and a few x-rays.
Changing a poopie diaper may not be glamorous, but sometimes it gives a good chuckle. I was chasing Erin down to change her poopie diaper. She runs off screaming and squealing, because apparently this is our thing. Lanie runs in to rescue her, "Don't worry, Erin! I'll save you!"
"I'm trying to save her from a poopie diaper," I say.
"There are worser things than diaper rash, Mommy," I'm told. "Like ... getting fired (as in hell) ... getting in hot lava (an abundance of that in these parts, you know) ... or getting sucked up by the vacuum cleaner."
At this point, I'm choking on stifled laughter. Thanks for the reality check, kiddo. You are very right. Sometimes, there are worser things!
Shane was jubilant this weekend as he walked into the house after dismantling the infant carseat and replacing it with a forward-facing seat. I thought he would start dancing any minute. And he doesn't dance.
"Now we can get rid of this!" he said. Next on his list is the infant swing that's in our bathroom. He is thrilled with each piece of childhood he can purge from the house.
I, however, am not so thrilled. There are many things I don't mind parting with, even the four bags of 12-mos-and-under baby clothes in every shade of pink (altough I'm saving a few outfits that I thought were particularly adorable). But with every item that goes, it's like we're getting rid of this sweet childhood, that is already going by too fast for my liking.
Contrary to my desire to hold onto her infancy, Erin is excited to embrace being a big girl. She took her first ride in the forward-facing seat and it was almost like I could hear her saying, "Mom, this is awesome! I'm such a big girl."
I'm trying to help Lanie with learning words and getting ready to read. She's got quite a few sight words under her belt. To make learning fun, I created The Jumping Game. I wrote a word on a colored square. When I had about 30 words done, I laid the squares out about three wide and ten long with enough jumping space in between. She had to announce what word she was going to jump on before she got there. When she worked her way to the last row, she got to choose a prize (lollipop, jellybean, or blueberry muffin).
I told her if I were her, I'd choose the muffin.
She said, "Since I'm myself, I'll choose the lollipop!"
Ha! She picked blue raspberry.
(This game would work well with vocabulary words, math answers, states and capitals, presidents ... use your imagination!)
Lanie has had a miserable two days, the likes I haven't seen since we banned Skittles from the house for similar moodiness. But we did get some levity yesterday during a family trip to the library for this week's reading materials. As we left, Shane snuck around the car and started pretending he was some kind of scary creature, which, at first, got a few squeals and laughs out of Lanie. Then, started to frustrate her and her anger tried to take over. So I said, "Hey, Lanie. If Daddy were an animal, what kind of animal would he be?"
I didn't hear her response so well, but Shane laughed out loud when he heard it. I looked at him and he said, "A poopy moose." I was considering how to lecture against the use of potty words, but their laughter got the best of me. Almost afraid of what would come out of her mouth, I said, "What kind of animal would Mommy be?"
Her response, "A nice heart."
Shane, indignant, argued, "That's not even an animal!"