Zoey and I were driving home from my Aunt Cindy's last night, after I had been to the gym. (Cindy is kind and gracious enough to watch Zoey every Tuesday evening so I can sneak in a work out. My goal is always to be home in time to watch the last half of The Biggest Loser.)
(And by the way, nobody told me it was only going to be a one hour program this week. I know I'm out of touch, but COME ON. I was all cozied up on my couch at 9 p.m. to at least see the weigh-ins...and somebody walks off?!? scandalous!...but all I got was some new show called The Voice. Whatever.)
Zoey: (from the backseat) Mom, what is the biggest lizard?
Me: Ummmm, you mean, in the world? I have no idea.
Zoey: No! The BIGGEST. LIZARD.
Me: Yeah, still don't really know. We can Google it when we get home.
Zoey: (With all the frustration a misunderstood preschooler can muster) NO, MOMMY! THE SHOW YOU WERE TELLING ABOUT AT AUNT CINDY'S!
Me: OH. The Biggest Loser?
Zoey: Yes! What is that!
Yet another example of how incredibly slow Zoey's mother can be at times.
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
Thursday, April 14, 2011
Echo of the Gecko
Scene: Petco, wandering through the reptile/rodent/furry beast aisle with Zoey. (A detour from the cat food section, so Zoey could drool over all the animals she'd love to own, including but not limited to a lizard, a ferret, two hamsters, and a handful of white mice.)
Zoey: Mommy, what's that?
Me: Hmmm...the sign says it's a gecko.
Zoey: Ooh! A gecko! Does it copy back what you say?
Me: Pardon?
Zoey: You know! Does it copy what you say!
Me: Um, no.
*Pause*
Me: Wait. Do you mean, like an echo?
Zoey: YEAH! GECKO!
She still wants one, even if it will never repeat what she says.
Zoey: Mommy, what's that?
Me: Hmmm...the sign says it's a gecko.
Zoey: Ooh! A gecko! Does it copy back what you say?
Me: Pardon?
Zoey: You know! Does it copy what you say!
Me: Um, no.
*Pause*
Me: Wait. Do you mean, like an echo?
Zoey: YEAH! GECKO!
She still wants one, even if it will never repeat what she says.
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
Wow.
Seen on an elementary school reader-board a few weeks ago:
KINDERGARTEN REGISTRATION, MARCH 23, 6-8 P.M.
I stared, in awe. Nearly causing an accident, most likely. Because it hit me then...at this time next year, I will be registering my baby for kindergarten.
Amazing.
KINDERGARTEN REGISTRATION, MARCH 23, 6-8 P.M.
I stared, in awe. Nearly causing an accident, most likely. Because it hit me then...at this time next year, I will be registering my baby for kindergarten.
Amazing.
Sunday, April 10, 2011
Long time no update
March 20? Is that seriously the last time I posted something here?
Oi.
I feel as though borderline-spring-rain-depression has settled in at our house. We got a brief glimpse of some sunshine on Friday afternoon and Zoey was so overwhelmed, I found her sitting up against the glass doors of the playground when I picked her up, because 'the shade is over here, Mommy, the sun is so BRIGHT!'. Other than that, it has been non-stop gray clouds and dripping, relentless rain. The red wagon, the small Weber BBQ, and Zoey's wee Dora training-wheel bike, all pulled prematurely from the shed back in mid-March, are sitting sadly on the patio, WAITING FOR THE DAMN RAIN TO STOP.
Hmmm. Maybe March 20 was the last day we had no clouds and rain?
At any rate, we are still here, despite my lack of writing lately. Zoey is still happy, healthy, pale, and probably lacking in vitamin D. I briefly pondered signing her up for yet another gym class at the Y, to add to her repertoire of ballet and gymnastics. Four-year-olds need to get their wiggles out in a bad way, otherwise it's the highway to 10 pm bedtime, you know? But when I asked if she'd like to sign up for sports camp with Coach Leah, I swear she rolled her eyes at me. And then, when it was established that a black leotard and tutu are not the standard uniform for sports camp, well...a big, fat, no-thank-you Mommy was all I got.
Maybe next session.
Most days, Zoey is quite content to stay at home and play pretend, creating elaborate stories that usually mean she gets to boss me around in one form or another. We play Mommy Cat and Baby Cat, Daycare Teacher, Rapunzel. She takes her 'homework' quite seriously and can spend wonderfully quiet chunks of time at the dining room table, writing in her preschool workbooks. When I lay in bed and read at night, if she is still awake, she insists on getting her own 'chapter book', usually a Ramona Quimby book or something starring a girl named Junie B. Jones, but at any rate with no pictures, and laying next to me, staring at the pages, turning them at the same rate I do. When I ask if she'd like to get one of her library books, something with pictures, she tells me no, she'd rather be just like me. Mommy, are you going to turn a page again soon? Are you ready? How about now?
So there you have it. Something of an update. Rain, rain, go away, so this Mommy and Kiddo can go back out and play.
Oi.
I feel as though borderline-spring-rain-depression has settled in at our house. We got a brief glimpse of some sunshine on Friday afternoon and Zoey was so overwhelmed, I found her sitting up against the glass doors of the playground when I picked her up, because 'the shade is over here, Mommy, the sun is so BRIGHT!'. Other than that, it has been non-stop gray clouds and dripping, relentless rain. The red wagon, the small Weber BBQ, and Zoey's wee Dora training-wheel bike, all pulled prematurely from the shed back in mid-March, are sitting sadly on the patio, WAITING FOR THE DAMN RAIN TO STOP.
Hmmm. Maybe March 20 was the last day we had no clouds and rain?
At any rate, we are still here, despite my lack of writing lately. Zoey is still happy, healthy, pale, and probably lacking in vitamin D. I briefly pondered signing her up for yet another gym class at the Y, to add to her repertoire of ballet and gymnastics. Four-year-olds need to get their wiggles out in a bad way, otherwise it's the highway to 10 pm bedtime, you know? But when I asked if she'd like to sign up for sports camp with Coach Leah, I swear she rolled her eyes at me. And then, when it was established that a black leotard and tutu are not the standard uniform for sports camp, well...a big, fat, no-thank-you Mommy was all I got.
Maybe next session.
Most days, Zoey is quite content to stay at home and play pretend, creating elaborate stories that usually mean she gets to boss me around in one form or another. We play Mommy Cat and Baby Cat, Daycare Teacher, Rapunzel. She takes her 'homework' quite seriously and can spend wonderfully quiet chunks of time at the dining room table, writing in her preschool workbooks. When I lay in bed and read at night, if she is still awake, she insists on getting her own 'chapter book', usually a Ramona Quimby book or something starring a girl named Junie B. Jones, but at any rate with no pictures, and laying next to me, staring at the pages, turning them at the same rate I do. When I ask if she'd like to get one of her library books, something with pictures, she tells me no, she'd rather be just like me. Mommy, are you going to turn a page again soon? Are you ready? How about now?
So there you have it. Something of an update. Rain, rain, go away, so this Mommy and Kiddo can go back out and play.
Sunday, March 20, 2011
Revisiting the Moment from earlier this week
I started this post last week about the heartbreaking sweetness of parenting a four-year-old. Because, for the past several weeks, Zoey and I have been clicking along in our rhythms and routines so fluidly, with so FEW time-outs, that it makes me pause and consider how delightful her stage of development happens to be.
'Mommy, we can't SEE heaven, because it's behind all those clouds!'
'What is recycling? How do you make new things out of old things, really?'
'We have a food tube in our throat that makes food go to our tummies! It's called your eshopagesh!'
I was having this moment where I was enthralled by her learning, her desire to soak up information around her. We've spent a lot of time at the dinner table discussing human anatomy. There is a special focus on the digestive system, of course...we're working on the term 'peristalsis' right now. And questions and statements about the reproductive system that make me cover my mouth quickly so she won't see me laughing. I love her innocent take on the world, the way she has no idea her questions are completely off the wall, and therefore is not embarrassed or ashamed to ask them all.
So yeah. I was sitting in the livingroom, close to bed time, have a Moment. Which is exactly when Zoey trounced out to the couch and requested Cheez-Its. Which is when I reminded her we had polished off the box earlier in the day. Which prompted this response, complete with red face and hands balled on hips:
'MOMMY. You shouldn't have eaten so many of them! If you hadn't eaten so many of them, I could have some NOW!'
Which ended in her dissolving to tears and running to her bedroom, and me clicking 'delete' on the post, seeing as how the Moment was ruined.
But trust me when I say she is less bipolar now than she was a year ago.
'Mommy, we can't SEE heaven, because it's behind all those clouds!'
'What is recycling? How do you make new things out of old things, really?'
'We have a food tube in our throat that makes food go to our tummies! It's called your eshopagesh!'
I was having this moment where I was enthralled by her learning, her desire to soak up information around her. We've spent a lot of time at the dinner table discussing human anatomy. There is a special focus on the digestive system, of course...we're working on the term 'peristalsis' right now. And questions and statements about the reproductive system that make me cover my mouth quickly so she won't see me laughing. I love her innocent take on the world, the way she has no idea her questions are completely off the wall, and therefore is not embarrassed or ashamed to ask them all.
So yeah. I was sitting in the livingroom, close to bed time, have a Moment. Which is exactly when Zoey trounced out to the couch and requested Cheez-Its. Which is when I reminded her we had polished off the box earlier in the day. Which prompted this response, complete with red face and hands balled on hips:
'MOMMY. You shouldn't have eaten so many of them! If you hadn't eaten so many of them, I could have some NOW!'
Which ended in her dissolving to tears and running to her bedroom, and me clicking 'delete' on the post, seeing as how the Moment was ruined.
But trust me when I say she is less bipolar now than she was a year ago.
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