Same old. Child grows, gets cuter. Converses more articulately. Does adorable stuff. Gets pathetically ill. Bounces back. You know.
You want pictures.
We spent Easter with my parents in Ontario. Owlet’s choice of reading material on the trip will, no doubt, be approved by many of you.
The weather was glorious, and the kids played outside with chalk on the sidewalk. Then we moved into the backyard so Sparky could climb the cherry tree, as he does at least once every visit, and Owlet decided that the backyard stone bunny needed some Eastery chalk decoration, too.
Travelling was great on the way there, but on the way home we ran into a toddler difficulty. Every time we stopped and went into a public bathroom, Owlet said she didn’t need to pee. She would try but couldn’t; the big public bathrooms were, I think, too busy and noisy, with all the flushing and lots of doors slamming and those wretched hand dryer machines that sound like a jet engine taking off and still make even Sparky cringe. We even carried our own toddler potty, because she’s been working through big potty/small potty comfort issues, and we didn’t want to stress her out with that any more than the trip was already going to stress her. So she wouldn’t go, we’d leave, then she would randomly say “Peepee! Hafa go pee!†with great urgency while we were on the highway. So we’d pull over, set her up on the little potty in the back of the car, and we’d wait; she still wouldn’t pee, and we’d pack up and go again. I’d forgotten how stressful travelling with a relatively newly potty-trained child is. (She eventually peed about two hours from home, in one of those lovely big private family bathrooms that are also the wheelchair-accessible rooms. So now we know: wait for the family bathroom, even if it means a longer stop, because the big public bathrooms are just too much for her. It wasn’t as much of an issue on the way down because we’d managed to use the private family bathroom every time except once, and the public bathroom was surprisingly quiet for that one.)
This month, Owlet decided that she wanted to learn how to knit. She grabbed my ballwinder one morning and said, “I love knitting!†She cranked it for a while, then said, “Where is my knitting? Oh, there it is!†I wasn’t about to give her my blanket square in progress, so I popped upstairs and got her two fat DPNs and the tiny ball of deep purple I had left over from a different blanket square.
“My knitting!†she said importantly.
Apparently, knitting consists of carefully wrapping the yarn around and around a needle (which isn’t entirely wrong, just missing a couple of details). And despite me trying to keep the ball of yarn on her lap, she insisted on dropping it over the side of the chair, probably because I put my project bags on the ground to the right of my feet so the yarn travels straight up to my right hand without getting caught on anything. (Frankly, if she was imitating me, I was surprised she didn’t say â€I’m COUNTING!†whenever I spoke to her.)
She has been sick twice in the past month, the first one a cold that had her home for three days, the most recent one a high fever coupled with a brutally sore throat that had me worried about strep until I heard that it had gone through the other daycare and lasted about four days. Every kid in our daycare caught it, too, except for one little girl who missed the two infectious days.
I forgot to post these two a couple of months ago. Who knew we had a little girl old enough to have hair this long? Here’s proof that curls take up more length of hair than you might think:
Braids are fun when you shake your had back and forth and feel them bump on your back and neck. Action shot!
She is off potatoes for some reason (why? who knows?), still hopes for “graby” if there’s meat involved in supper, loves to eat handfuls of frozen peas if I’m about to cook them for supper, loves raw sweet peppers, adores granola bars, and is going to be one sad little owlie when she finishes the last of her Easter chocolate. Every night after supper she says “Little bunny!” or “Chocclit egg!” with great excitement. Handing her a small foil-wrapped egg is good for a few minutes of peace, because she peels it all off in tiny flakes.
Adorable conversational quirks these days include saying, “Oh, man” when she’s unimpressed or sulky about something (thanks so much for modelling that one, Sparky), and the much more enjoyable “I love this one!”, or some other version of “I love {insert thing she’s doing/watching/hearing here}.”
You know what she loves doing? Playing on the iPad with Sparky. Actually, doing anything with Sparky, because he is awesome. (And he is. She’s right about that.)
And the willow tree that we planted outside her window when she was about six months old. She loves her tree.