“Santa comes down the chimney?” “That’s what they say.” “So, how does he go up?” “Well, he lays a finger aside his nose,” I say, demonstrating, “and he goes up.” “He has to climb back up the chimney.” “No. He puts his finger by his nose and just goes up.” This is met with a look that’s part confusion, part my-mother-has-lost-her-mind. “Santa’s magic.” A pause. “So,” like she’s caught the flaw in my logic and is about to pounce like a 3.5 year old trial lawyer, “how does he get down off the roof?” Ha! I’ve got you now! Just …
Category: Caitlyn
After dinner this evening, Caitlyn announced, “My voice is getting loud because of my imagination. It’s this big,” spreading her arms about shoulder-width. “That big?” said Ian. “Yes. It’s medium sized. And oval shaped. And orange.” “Your imagination is shaped like an orange.” “Yes.” “Is your imagination juicy like an orange?” “Sort of.” “Will your imagination grow as you get bigger? Will it get juicier?” “Yes. It will be really juicy when I’m sixteen.” Oh, honey, you have no idea. Happy Solstice from Seattle, where we have about a foot of snow on the ground and somehow miraculously still have …
We watched election returns at a friend’s house and heard most of Seattle burst into cheers just before The Daily Show signed off with the announcement that Obama had won. For a moment, I thought it was just The Daily Show being funny, since sometimes I find it hard to tell when they are being serious. But when we switched to a “real” news station, it was all about the win. I don’t miss the nail-biting cliff-hanger at all. We watched McCain’s speech and were generally impressed. And we watched Obama’s speech – twice – and I teared up – …
We ate the first of our homegrown peas with lunch and dinner today. With dinner, they were sprinkled on a salad of homegrown lettuce and topped with homemade feta cheese. (For lunch, we ate them straight from the pod.) Very yummy! Caitlyn went to her third Solstice Parade at Fremont this weekend. We met with friends, picnicked on breakfast carbs (thanks for the idea, Abra!), and had front row seats for the general wackiness that is Solstice in Fremont. Caitlyn got to draw with chalk in the middle of the street, collect candy tossed by parade participants, and then follow …
Caitlyn has developed her own personal creation myth. Apparently, I sewed her together, around her bones, then glued her to a piece of paper, stood her up and said, “There you are, Caitlyn!” Sort of makes one wonder what all she thinks I’m doing at my sewing table while she’s napping. I’m not sure what I’ll say when she tires of asking me to make her new dresses and says, “Mama, make me a friend.” Happy Third Birthday, Sweet Pea!
Things Caitlyn says when she’s asleep: “I don’t want the tomato!” “Mama, wear gloves.” “S T U V W X Y and Z.”