We were having dinner on the deck the other night and Wrigley looks up and says:
W: Behind the blue, there's black. Yes or no?
Dad, utterly befuddled, munches happily away at his dinner.
M: That's right.
W: And that's space.
Dad is still utterly befuddled, but now it's because he didn't know that his daughter knew what "space" is. But he has no problem continuing to munch away at his dinner.
M: Yup.
W: And the earth is in space.
Dad gives up on the whole dinner thing and surrenders completely to befuddlement.
W: And the earth is spinning round and around and around ...
And Daddy's head is spinning around and around and around ...
Thursday, March 10, 2005
Thursday, February 24, 2005
We Answer More Questions Before 9:30 am than ...
It isn't so much the Why's? that get me. I can appreciate that Wrigley is curious about how the world works. It isn't even asking the same Why question 8 times over 2 days. Sometimes it takes a lot of repetition to be sure you've got something down straight. Many times it is a long sequence of Why's. There are only so many levels of Why before you just plain run out (why is the bus late? maybe there was traffic. Why? well, there's traffic when there are lots of cars on the road. why? lots of people have places to go all at the same time. why? many people go to work at this time. why? because it is worktime. why? I don't @#$&ing know). Anyway, I can usually manage that conversation all the way to its grumpy-sighed "I don't know" conclusion many many times a bus ride.
The three practically identical conversations we had this morning before 9:30 am that left me wishing I could leave the room with my hands over my ears yelling lalalalala went like this:
W: are those dishes (in the dishwasher) clean?
M: no
W: yes or no
M: no
W: Are they clean?
M: no
W: these are clean or dirty?
The three practically identical conversations we had this morning before 9:30 am that left me wishing I could leave the room with my hands over my ears yelling lalalalala went like this:
W: are those dishes (in the dishwasher) clean?
M: no
W: yes or no
M: no
W: Are they clean?
M: no
W: these are clean or dirty?
Tuesday, February 22, 2005
Maybe It's the Fever ...
Wrig and I have spent the last 20 days or so reading Winnie-the-Pooh at bedtime - a chapter a night. My brain is so filled with the garrish Disney versions that I'd forgotten how wonderful those original stories are. Milne is funny and sophisticated and wise about childhood and utterly brilliant about the art of writing and I could go on and on ... Wrig's been really excited about the whole process. I think the stories are a little over her head but she really likes snuggling in to listen and when we're done she always asks ...
W: What are we going to read tomorrow?
D: Chapter IX: In Which Eeyore Finds the Wolery and Owl Moves In.
W: What's a wolery?
D: We'll have to read it tomorrow to find out!
Anyway. Wrig is sick today, in that helpless, feverish way only little kids (and daddies!) can be sick. She's been cuddly and fragile all evening. I know they always talk about Mama bears, but there is something that happens inside me when Wrig is sick. Defensive isn't quite the right word - I think it's protective. When she's sick, I just want to hug her and squeeze her and hang on to her nonstop.
So we curl up in bed to read Pooh Bear. We happen to be on the last chapter. Christopher Robin is leaving the forest; everybody knows it but they don't know where he is going or even how they know that he is leaving in the first place. Christopher Robin and Pooh Bear wander off alone to an Enchanted Place to say good-bye without knowing how to say good-bye. It's heartbreaking.
And when you read it for the first time in a long time, with your sick daughter tucked into your armpit, and you realize for a split second how fragile everything is, that last chapter of Pooh Bear just might be the saddest thing in the world.
W: What are we going to read tomorrow?
D: Chapter IX: In Which Eeyore Finds the Wolery and Owl Moves In.
W: What's a wolery?
D: We'll have to read it tomorrow to find out!
Anyway. Wrig is sick today, in that helpless, feverish way only little kids (and daddies!) can be sick. She's been cuddly and fragile all evening. I know they always talk about Mama bears, but there is something that happens inside me when Wrig is sick. Defensive isn't quite the right word - I think it's protective. When she's sick, I just want to hug her and squeeze her and hang on to her nonstop.
So we curl up in bed to read Pooh Bear. We happen to be on the last chapter. Christopher Robin is leaving the forest; everybody knows it but they don't know where he is going or even how they know that he is leaving in the first place. Christopher Robin and Pooh Bear wander off alone to an Enchanted Place to say good-bye without knowing how to say good-bye. It's heartbreaking.
And when you read it for the first time in a long time, with your sick daughter tucked into your armpit, and you realize for a split second how fragile everything is, that last chapter of Pooh Bear just might be the saddest thing in the world.
Monday, February 21, 2005
A Peck of Tickled Pictures
Wrigley went roller skating for the first time this this weekend. As you can tell she really enjoyed it and was off on her own in no time!
We have been having really great weather in Portland this winter. I had I guy at a bus stop chew me out for enjoying it too much one day. He's concerned about the impending drought and a whole host of related problems that one has never thought of before. One day I'll learn how to tell these strangers who insist on spilling their guts to me to go away but until then I'll nod politely and continue to enjoy the sun.
and finally, Wrigley always enjoys being a buckethead and this is the first picture that of the 100 buckethead photos I have taken that aren't worth the memory they occupied for a day!
We have been having really great weather in Portland this winter. I had I guy at a bus stop chew me out for enjoying it too much one day. He's concerned about the impending drought and a whole host of related problems that one has never thought of before. One day I'll learn how to tell these strangers who insist on spilling their guts to me to go away but until then I'll nod politely and continue to enjoy the sun.
and finally, Wrigley always enjoys being a buckethead and this is the first picture that of the 100 buckethead photos I have taken that aren't worth the memory they occupied for a day!
Friday, February 18, 2005
You're Older Than You've Ever Been (and now you're even older) ...
We knew this conversation was coming, but we were surprised it happened so soon:
W: Why do people get married?
M: They get married because they love each other ... just like Mommy and Daddy.
W: When did you guys get married?
M: We got married on August 8, 1994. That was a looong time before you were born.
W: ... Was that before they had cars?
W: Why do people get married?
M: They get married because they love each other ... just like Mommy and Daddy.
W: When did you guys get married?
M: We got married on August 8, 1994. That was a looong time before you were born.
W: ... Was that before they had cars?
Sunday, February 13, 2005
Love is in the Air
According to Wrig: There's big love. And small love. And medium love. And slow love and fast love.
My love is fast.
My love is fast.
The Cats Sleep Curled Up Like Donuts
Wrig, as many of you know, has never been a great sleeper. She's pretty good at it now, but she still wakes up to speak once or twice a night. "I'm thirsty," she'll whimper, or, heartbreakingly, "Where are you, Ed?"
The other night, in the middle of the night, she meowed three times, then eased right back to sleep.
The other night, in the middle of the night, she meowed three times, then eased right back to sleep.
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