Happy 4th birthday my big, big girl! We have finally wrapped up an entire week of birthday fun, during which you were spoiled, loved on, sung to and celebrated a whole lot. We had several small parties, like your cupcake party at school and your special birthday lunch at The Crab Shack. But the big celebration was on Saturday, when your friends joined you at Norwood Stables for a pony party. It was so great!
You appropriately donned your cowgirl hat and boots for the shindig, and took great interest as the employees saddled the ponies at the start of your party. As a horse person myself (perhaps horse-obsessed person would be more accurate), my heart melted when I saw how sweet and tender you were with the ponies. You weren’t afraid of them, but you were respectful and kind, offering gentle rubs and soft words.
When it was time to ride, you hopped happily into the saddle, but as soon as the horse started walking your face grew grim and serious. I wondered if you were nervous. Or were you upset? Had you wanted to ride the other pony instead? I couldn’t figure out the cause of your sour mood. “Camille, are you okay?” I called out. You nodded your head yes, but didn’t drop the stern face.
Then I remembered. The last time you put on your cowgirl hat, I asked to see your “cowgirl face.” And it was serious indeed. Somehow, you’ve decided that cowgirls are a very serious bunch. So the whole time you rode, you kept your cowgirl face on, except at the very end when you started merrily chanting “Go pony, go!” over and over to your four-legged friends.
Despite the scowl, there was no doubt in my mind that you were enjoying those ponies. You took turns with your other friends, but eventually some of them grew tired of riding and wandered over to the table for snacks. But you kept riding, until finally I had to ask you to come join us for pizza and cake.
While I will try not to push my own hobbies and interests on you, I sure did enjoy watching you loving those ponies.
Though it may have been a pony party, it had a Totoro theme. You still love Totoro, the mythical Japanese forest spirit that has been described as a cross between a rabbit, bear and owl. You adore your stuffed Totoro toys and love the Totoro movie. We were happy to oblige with your Totoro party request, but it did require some creativity on our part. Party City does not carry a “Totoro” line.
So we improvised. We ordered some tiny Totoro toys from Hong Kong as party favors for your guests. Your Daddy created Totoro gift bags, cutting and assembling each one by hand. You wanted balloons, so he drew Totoro faces on them. Then I worked on your Totoro cake. You delighted in everything, making the extra effort worthwhile.
Although the party was a great success, it was actually our Plan B. Our original party plan was to rent a bouncy house for the backyard, because bouncing is one of your favorite things to do.
But it was not to be. About ten days before your party, we were vacationing with Uncle Jeff, Aunt Michelle, Stella and Jane in Florida. You fell off a couch onto a brick floor and hurt your shoulder. You cried so hard that I knew it really hurt. There was no bruising or swelling, but you didn’t like to lift your arm or have any pressure on your left shoulder at all.
Before I go on with the story, let me back up and say that you had earned a reputation as an overly-sensitive drama queen. Take tonight, for example. I was giving you a bath when you suddenly screamed, jumped to your feet and started to cry. You began yelling, “I’m done! I’m done with my bath!” through a voice thick with tears. What brought this on? One of your band-aids was starting to come off. You were afraid it would hurt when it came off.
So, fast forward to your shoulder injury. We decided to give it a few days, based on your prior overreaction to pain. It didn’t seem to bother you most of the time, just when you moved in certain ways. After three days of this, we finally took you to the doctor. To find out it was BROKEN.
Your broke your collar bone. And we didn’t even know it. I AM SO SORRY!
I feel terrible about not taking you to the doctor right away. They expect it to heal well on its own and didn’t do anything to treat it, so it’s not like we delayed treatment. They just said no bouncy-house birthday party. But still, I hate to think you were walking around with a broken bone and I didn’t take it seriously. We went to see an orthopedist after we found out it was broken. He had you do a series of movements to lift and move your shoulder. You did them, very slowly and carefully, and he said to himself. “Wow. Tough girl.”
And I felt even worse! All this time I’d been calling you a drama queen, when in reality you can be quite the tough girl. So tough that the orthopedist was impressed with your pain tolerance. After I got over the shock of his statement, I had new found respect for you, my tough girl who also likes theatrics from time to time.
Despite your injury – and perhaps because we didn’t yet know the extent of it – we had a good time in Florida playing on the beach. We got some great pics too.
We gave you your birthday present a couple of weeks early this year because it just wasn’t the sort of gift you could easily hide. Your Daddy and I got you a playhouse – a for real, wooden, shingled, awesome playhouse for the backyard.
Your Daddy and our friend Allen built the house, which has a nice faux-wood floor and working windows with screens. It looks great in the backyard under our shade tree, and there’s plenty of room inside for a table and a tea party with your new Jessie doll.
I got to relive a beloved childhood memory with you earlier this month – picking blackberries. We went to the local Coastal Bamboo Farm and walked up and down the lanes in the berry patch, plucking ripe blackberries from
the thorny vines.
I have very distinct memories of
carrying my Grandmother’s wooden, woven baskets down the dusty dirt roads around her farm,
picking blackberries. I’d put one in the basket and about 5 in my
mouth. It took a really long time to fill the basket that way.
Then
we’d walk down their long driveway back to the house where she would
make blackberry cobbler. My Grandmother has been gone for several
years now, but as you and I bent over the blackberry vines –
braving the brambles for the juiciest berries – I felt
my Grandmother was still close to us.
I regret that I never got
my Grandmother’s blackberry cobbler recipe, but Boo shared one with me that is very good. I want to share it with you too, so that one day maybe you can make our blackberry cobbler and remember picking berries with me too.
Don’t forget to serve it up warm with a bit of vanilla ice cream.
Fruit Cobbler
Ingredients:
2 cups fruit (in juice, or add 1/4 to 1/2 cup of sugar to fresh fruit to create juice)
1 stick melted butter
2/3 cup self-rising flour
1 cup sugar
2/3 cup milk
dash of cinnamon
Directions:
Preheat
oven to 350 degrees. Melt butter in pie plate. In mixing bowl, combine
flour, sugar, and milk and cinnamon. Add batter to butter, don’t stir!
Add fruit, don’t stir! (I put the pie plate on a cookie sheet in case
some of it spills over during cooking.) Bake for 45 minutes. Sprinkle a
little more sugar on top when finished.
Thank you for four of the best years of my life, sweet girl. You may be getting bigger and turning into a tough girl, but you’re still my baby, and still sweeter than fresh blackberry cobbler with ice cream on the side. I love you so very much.
You know what’s not easy? Surfing.
I was a HUGE fan of boogie boarding as a child, and the waves at Ormond Beach last week were absolutely perfect for it. They were just high and powerful enough for a fast ride, but not big enough to be scary (at least not to me, Camille thought otherwise). Monday morning I sailed on top of several waves with a borrowed boogie board and felt like I was 12 years old again. Such fun.
Then Michelle’s family brought out the surfboards. I’ve never tried surfing before but always thought it looked fun – at least on the smaller waves. No pipelines for this lady. I got a pep talk from the experienced surfers, then tried riding a few waves on my stomach. On the first one, the nose of the board tipped down and the board and I ungracefully somersaulted to shore. The second time, I kept my weight on the back of the board and things were much better. The third time I wiped out and took a board to the chin.
I never managed to get up on my feet, and I totally understand now why surfers are always so ripped. That was hard work, as my aching upper arms reminded me the next day. But I suffered no bodily harm and had a really good time trying to surf, so I consider that a small personal victory. Yay me!
On July 4th we headed down to Ormond Beach in Florida to visit with my brother, Michelle and the girls. They were vacationing there and we decided it would be a whole lot easier to join them in Florida than travel to Tulsa to see them (although we still want to see their new home sometime soon!).
We had a good couple of days together, and my favorite moments were spent on the beach. The stretch of sand was wide with tidal pools perfect for the kids. I hadn’t seen baby Jane since she was 4 weeks old – what a difference!
Stella is 2 and a half now, and full of energy. She would just run in circles all around the beach, happy to be outside and stretching her legs. I snapped a bunch of pictures while Camille and Stella played in the tidal pool, and when you put them together it looks like synchronized swimming.
I miss them already!
Last weekend, our friend Allen was generous enough to come to Savannah to help Lee build Camille’s birthday present – a rockin’ new playhouse! His wife Missy and their four kids came too, and as the men worked we moms and kids put in a full day of play. Camille had quite the sleepover with the three oldest kids in her room and really seemed to enjoy their company.
Now that’s a full bathtub, wouldn’t you say?
By Saturday evening the boys had finished construction and did a mighty fine job. We’re still in the process of painting the house, but the kids were able to play in it (pictures coming soon!). I was glad Camille got to break in her new gift with a whole gaggle of good buddies.
Then we topped off the night with a fireworks display in Richmond Hill. The weather was absolutely perfect – so cool it felt more like early fall than mid-summer. We had avoided the Tybee fireworks because of the crowds, and were treated to a spacious park with plenty of room for the kids to dance around with antsy anticipation before the show. The fireworks were fun, and even better since they were shared with friends.
Hello my almost-four-year-old, and Happy Forty-Seven Months! Right now I’m sitting in the living room, feeling tense and anxious, hoping you’re finally asleep. We began an epic bedtime battle last night and it isn’t over yet. After two years of being a super sleeper, you’ve decided our bedtime routine needs serious modification, involving staying up late and having someone sleep with you. We respectfully disagree.
The cause of our battle is no mystery. We returned yesterday from a week at Rock Eagle 4-H camp. During that week, you slept in a room with me, and we occasionally let you stay up late. My hope was that you’d realize being back at home meant returning to our regular routine. Apparently, this was not so.
I really, really dislike these nighttime fights, in part because I have to wait until morning to play the role of nice mommy again. I don’t like the mean mama role – I know it’s necessary but I don’t like it a bit. I don’t like either of us going to bed with such bad vibes hanging in the air.
You fought me about rest time today too. As usual I told you that you didn’t have to sleep, you just had to stay in your room. In an act of defiance, you told me you were NOT going to stay in your room, and positioned yourself just outside your door. Where you fell asleep. I had to sneak a picture of you practicing passive resistance to my edicts, yet accidentally giving in to them anyway.
Our current struggle may be difficult, but the trip to Rock Eagle was still worth it. Your Boo asked us to join her at Rock Eagle this year for her last trip to summer camp before retirement. You and I bunked with 17 middle school girls, often accompanying them to classes, eating in the dining hall, and participating in as many camp activities as we could.
You made crafts with your Daddy and Boo, you swam and swam in the pools, and you got to go canoeing with me, even holding your own paddle.
You totally rocked the camp’s herpetology class. There were kids in there too terrified to even look at the snakes. But here you are, eagerly touching Ellie the rat snake during class.
We came back to see the snakes again later (unfortunately without a camera), and the class leader even let you hold Casper, the small albino corn snake. Most of his body rested in your palms while his head began curling up your arm. Soon, you and Casper were face to face, and his tongue flicked out and gave you a kiss. You giggled. You, who can be scared of a bug in the house, seemed perfectly at home with reptile friends.
Speaking of bugs, you got to experience a fascinating first at camp – fireflies. We were walking back to the cabin the first night when they began lighting up in the nearby trees. Every time you saw one, you’d gasp with delight. What a treat!
You got lots of attention from the other campers and the counselors too, which you loved, of course. We brought your wagon to help us get from class to class, and the kids would often fight over who could pull the wagon next. Here you are, outside our cabin, holding court with a group of admirers.
As we left camp yesterday morning, we stopped to climb the tower to see the mysterious Rock Eagle effigy created by Native Americans many, many years ago. Rock Eagle is a place that has been very special to your Daddy and Boo
for many years, and now I’m pleased that it has become special to you as well.
Camp wasn’t the only adventure we had this month. You experienced another major “first,” your first dance recital. Sweet girl, I was so proud of you.
We had fun getting you all dolled up for the event, curling your long blond hair and even letting you wear a bit of makeup.
But as for the recital itself, I had absolutely no idea what to expect. When it comes to dance, you have been a bit iffy about going to dance class. You seem to enjoy dancing, but don’t like to leave me in the waiting area. So I wondered how you’d handle being thrust on stage, knowing Mama and Daddy were in the audience. Would you refuse? Would you stand there and cry, looking for us in the sea of faces? It would have been ok – performing on stage is a lot to ask of a three-year-old.
You weren’t very happy to be left backstage, so as I sat in my seat waiting for your performance to begin, I had butterflies for you. But the curtain opened, and there you stood with a huge grin on your face. You spent the first minute of the tap dance number just looking around at the audience, giggling. Later, you told me, “Everyone was taking my picture!” My little ham.
You looked so cute in both of your costumes, and once you got into the music you tapped and twirled and seemed to enjoy every minute of your stage time. I’m not sure if you’ll take dance lessons again next year (your current answer is “no”), so even if your first dance recital was your last, you certainly made it a wonderful event.
This month you graduated from your current class at preschool, even wearing a little red graduation cap along with your classmates to mark the occasion. Elsie was among your graduating class, and her sweet Nonie brought flowers to both of you girls to honor your achievements.
Also this month, we planted our first backyard garden. We planted green beans, carrots, green onion, cilantro, zucchini and squash. The day after we put the seeds in the dirt, you were eager to run to the window to see if any of them had sprouted. When you didn’t see any green stems pushing through the soil, you said, “It’s taking forever!”
But a few days later, we saw the first shoots breaking through. It’s too early to know if we’ll reap a harvest (and given my history with plants, I’m not optimistic), but we’re enjoying the process nonetheless.
I can’t believe you’re only a month away from being four years old. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that as you look and act more grown up every day, you’re asking more grown up questions too. This past month, I can’t tell you how many conversations we’ve had about death and God. I’ve tried to answer every question as honestly as I can, but it isn’t always easy.
Lately, I’ve been rethinking the phrase from the Bible about having the “faith of a child.” Yes, I agree that children are capable of great faith. If I told you God was a seven-headed dragon who lived at the top of Mount Everest, you would believe me. But in some ways, our conversations have been more difficult because I don’t have definitive answers. I have guesses, but you crave absolutes. You ask me when you will die, when I will die, how it will happen, where we will go, how we will get there. Will we take a rocket ship to heaven? What does God look like? Why can’t we see God? I’d like to know these things too. That’s why I need faith, because there is so much I don’t know about the “why” and “how” of religion. I hope you’ll keep asking and not just take my word for it when it comes to these complicated questions of life, death and afterlife. And I hope one day you’ll find your own faith, while also realizing that none of us has all the answers.
The conversations have been funny too. One day, when we were talking about what God looks like, I said I didn’t know, but that I believed he was a spirit. “Like Totoro!” you exclaimed. Ah yes, your beloved Totoro is a mythical Japanese rabbit-like creature who lives in the forest and can only be seen by children. You love your Totoro toy and the Totoro movie, in which Totoro is referred to as a forest spirit. So it makes sense that, after I called God a spirit, your current image of God is likely that of Totoro.
With all the mysteries of life that I can’t answer, at least I can tell you with absolute conviction that you are loved. I’m happy to report that you are now sleeping soundly, so I’m off to bed too. And while I don’t like our occasional struggles, they really are rare. You cannot begin to comprehend the overwhelming joy you bring to our lives. Sleep well my sweet girl. Mama loves you so much.
Monday morning, as the Ben Hill County school bus rolled through rural Georgia, Camille wiggled and giggled and changed seats and sat up and laid down and thoroughly enjoyed a long road trip minus a car seat. Oh the joys of a school bus when you are three.
Lee, Camille and I were accompanied by Boo and about 35 middle schoolers heading to Rock Eagle for a week of 4-H summer camp. This is Boo’s last (and 25th) summer camp before retirement. Lee was a counselor here back in the day. I was a camp dropout, so this was to be a new experience for both Camille and me.
I signed up for this very camp as a 5th grader. But several weeks before we left, I was invited to a slumber party at the home of a girl I didn’t know very well. Turns out she’s the horror movie type. My parents never let me watch R-rated movies, and I didn’t complain because I scared VERY easily.
The movie she chose for us that night was Summer Camp Massacre. That next week, I withdrew my name. No way was I going to summer camp to be slaughtered in my cabin. No. Way.
I am happy to report that we are at the close of day two and we are all happy and alive, albeit really really really really hot. Camille has been a trooper, enduring meetings and other adult leader duties, and has been rewarded with time at the pool, rides around campus in a wagon, the cool natural history museum, and the company of older girls who think she is cute. She really likes older girls, so this works out well.
Today she made Native American crafts with her Daddy and Boo. Tomorrow we have signed up for a herpetology class – bring on the snakes! This is a great camp, and I hope one day (if I keep the R-rated movies away) she’ll want to come back as a camper.
One week ago today, Camille made her stage debut. She performed during two songs at her long-anticipated dance recital – one tap and one ballet. We were so proud of her! I managed not to cry, but it was tough!
And now I present, the dancing diva. It takes her a minute to warm up, but keep watching and you’ll see her cool moves!
Tap Performance:
Ballet Performance:
Encore, I say!
I’m working from home this morning, and was taking a call on my porch because my phone rarely works in the house. Have I mentioned before how unsatisfied I am with AT&T? No? Well, if I weren’t so satisfied with my iphone (and thereby trapped with AT&T), I’d have switched a long time ago. But I digress.
So I’m on the phone when, out of the corner of my eye, I noticed movement in our flowerpots. I risked a dropped call to run inside and grab my camera. I got a few shots of this little guy before he scampered off into our gardenia bushes. He made me smile, so I thought I’d share.
Ok, so that title is an album reference and no cause for alarm (mom and dad, I’m looking at you), but I was figuratively nearly slain by The Hold Steady last night.
Lee introduced me to this band a couple of years ago. I liked them right away as musicians who can be funny, witty and smart and also happen to ROCK. Then I saw them live, and let me tell you – I have never seen another live band that seemed to be having so much fun. They exude an extremely infectious form of enthusiasm on stage, and I was hooked.
We knew the next time they toured, we’d take a road trip to see them, whether it be Jacksonville, Athens or Atlanta. But we were shocked when they booked a club in SAVANNAH.
What? (Retrieving jaw from floor)
Savannah may be known for a lot of great things, but not our rock scene. So we snapped up tickets and hoped folks in our city would turn out to support a great band.
I’d never been to the venue they booked, but as we stood in line to get in I smelled that old familiar smell – musty, dank bar mixed with beer and cigarettes. Mmmmmm…smelled like college. For a moment I felt young, but then I thought about the earplugs in my pocket, the fact that I kept texting the babysitter for status updates, and how I was out past my bedtime, and then I felt old.
I was with Lee and Trent, and when we walked in the door we all looked at the stage and just stopped and stared. The club was tiny, I mean t-i-n-y, with a small “stage” that might have been elevated all of 6 inches. Trent said it best – this show was going to be like having The Hold Steady play in your house. Equally as intimate, except better because at the end, we wouldn’t have to clean up beer bottles and such.
I was pumped. I’m not usually obsessed with being in the front row at shows, but as I mentioned before, The Hold Steady is a fun band to watch. And with the stage so low to the ground, I needed to be close to have a chance at seeing anything. So we were front and center, so close I could’ve strummed Craig Finn’s guitar for him.
And they were great. We sang, we yelled, we jumped up and down. I may have shrieked a time or two. From where I stood it was hard to tell for sure, but I think the club was pretty packed. But I had a pleasant bit of tunnel vision, and for all I knew there was only us and The Hold Steady at arms length. And as usual, they looked like they were having a blast. I know we sure were.
Today, I am hoarse, sore, tired, yet satisfied. Can we do that again? PLEASE?
Konban-wa my sweet love, and Happy Forty-Six Month birthday!! It’s the evening and I’ve just put you to bed, and as is your custom these days, I closed your door to the sound of “Konban-wa!” which is “good evening” in Japanese. Your Daddy and I traveled to Japan this past month, and we spent some time before the trip attempting to learn a little of the language. I wasn’t even trying to teach it to you (though in retrospect, I should have), but you watched me work with my flash cards and started picking it up on your own. The day I learned konban-wa, you wanted to know what it meant. I told you, and you announced, “I’m going to say that to you tonight when it’s night-night time.”
That night I tucked you in like always and closed the door, not even thinking about your earlier declaration. But I hadn’t reached the stairs before I heard your feet hit the floor, slapping on the hardwoods as you bolted across your room. Flinging open your door, you proudly said, “KONBAN-WA!” And now I hear it every night.
I missed hearing it from you while we were in Japan – oh how we missed you! There were many times on our trip that I wished you were with us, like when we had a picnic along one of the shallow rivers snaking through downtown Kyoto. Children your age spent that unseasonably warm afternoon wading through the river, dipping their little fish nets in the cool water. You would have loved it. But there were lots of other activities that wouldn’t have interested you a bit, and I’m positive you wouldn’t have enjoyed the 24-hour travel time each way. But I’m already looking forward to taking big trips like this with you when you’re a little older.
Your Daddy and I have been bitten by the travel bug – no, perhaps it’s more like an infestation. Thankfully, we seem to have passed that along to you as well. Whether its a short trip to go camping in north Georgia, or a flight to Chicago or Boston, you seem to enjoy the adventure and are a great travel buddy.
While I’m glad you’re not timid about leaving your fair city of birth, I wasn’t prepared for the announcement you made earlier this month. We were assembling a puzzle of the United States, so I guess geography was on your mind. Suddenly, your head snapped up and you looked at me as if you just remembered something really important you’d been meaning to say. “Mama!” you said. “When I get older, I want to live in Europe!”
I’m really not sure where this came from, but I didn’t think we’d have this conversation until you were much, much older. I told you that you could if you wanted to, but secretly I was already thinking that I’d miss you too much. Visit Europe? Sure. A college semester in Europe? Absolutely. Live in Europe? Hmmm… maybe we’ll have perfected teleportation by that time. In that case, I’d be all for it.
And although you didn’t get to accompany us to Japan, you still had plenty of your own adventures while we were gone. The day before we left, we took you to stay with Boo. It was very good timing because Auntie and Jones were also visiting Boo, so you got to spend time with three of your favorite people. You were so smitten with Jones when we arrived, wanting to hug and kiss him and hold his hand. Fortunately, he wanted to hold yours too, and giggled at everything you did. You mothered him so thoroughly while we were there, constantly encouraging and affirming his every move. We hated to leave the scene of such cuteness.
After a few days of soaking up attention from them, you traveled to Tennessee to be with Nana and Granddaddy. They took you for your first amusement park experience –
Dollywood! I’ve never even been to Dollywood, although I have a feeling
we’ll remedy that soon because you loved it so much.
There were
plenty of rides for the preschool crowd, and your favorite was the
flying elephants. You also liked this car ride, which let you feel like
you were controlling the car, even though a rail at the bottom was
really keeping you on track. Nana told me when the ride began, you
excitedly said, “I’m REALLY driving it!”
They also took you fishing for the first time. You didn’t catch anything, but I hear you enjoyed the experience (especially the post-fishing boat ride and picnic). I do wonder how you would have reacted if you caught a fish. Would you have been worried about the fish, seeing it flopping on the dock with a gaping mouth and a hook? I must admit, while I like the idea of fishing, I sometimes can’t get past my sympathy for the poor fish to enjoy the sport.
But you may not have that same limitation. After all, your favorite exhibit at Oatland Island right now is – no, not the farm. Not the buffalo. Not the eagles. The deer bones. Yep, bones.
This may have something to do with your love of dinosaur bones, but it’s hard to know for sure. All I know is that when we go to Oatland, you beg me to take you to see the deer bones.
They’re situated along the trail leading toward the wolf house. There’s a narrative along this part of the trail, talking about the lives of wolves in the wild. The bones are there to represent the site of a deer kill. When we first happened upon them, my instinct was to hurry by, especially because the signs show images of wolves feasting on a bloody deer carcass. But you are fascinated by the bones and by the picture. You asked what was happening in that image, and I told you. After a pause for careful consideration, you seemed fine with it. Circle of life and all that.
Then we walked to the wolf house, where you stood behind the safety glass and watched them pace by. Thinking about deer bones.
Oh, you are so full of questions these days, and many really good questions. Like where are the eyes on this alligator (from story time at Oatland)? Does he blink?
Even when you’re not asking questions, I’m learning that you’re still very aware. Your Daddy and I have always tried to be careful about screening music in the car, but mostly I’ve been screening for language or lewd content.
So when you professed your love for my latest Pearl Jam CD, I was delighted. It’s a current favorite of mine, and it’s light on four-letter words and devoid of suggestive lyrics. And while there is a time and place for your Elmo and Wonder Pets CDs, I like the idea of expanding your musical horizons. If I ever have to turn the Pearl Jam songs down to talk to you or take a phone call, you immediately demand, “Turn it LOUDER!” That’s my girl.
But while the Pearl Jam songs aren’t objectionable according to my usual standards, I didn’t think about the fact that the subject matter can be a bit intense for a three-year-old. One of your favorite songs is about the death of a loved one. You asked me what it was about, and I said it was about love, which is sort of true. But I was surprised when in the car the other day, you laughed after the phrase, “I understand every life must end…”
Me: “Why did you laugh?”
You: “He said laugh!”
You thought “life” was “laugh.” Then later, you asked to hear the song about “the first time you saw a bird.” I was clueless, until I realized you misheard the phrase, “the first time you saw blood.” Oops. You LOVE that song, and practically shout that particular phrase, albeit incorrectly. I must say, I like your version, and find myself singing that phrase now too.
You’ve also begun freestyling your own songs, coming up with hilarious lyrics on your own. We’re probably one of the few families that keep a ukulele in the master bathroom (what would a stranger think, wandering through our house and finding a ukulele next to the toilet?). But your Daddy likes to play the ukulele during your bath, while you come up with the words to his songs. I’ve yet to successfully capture this on video, partly because you still get a bit shy about your lyrics when I pull out the camera. But your songs are great, and I love watching your creative mind in action, especially in tandem with your Daddy. You two are a great duo.
And I just love our trio. You bring so much joy to our lives, sweet girl. Sleep well, and know you are loved. KONBAN-WA!
