Saturday, July 03, 2010


Firstly, in a rare act of continuity, I bring you Lucy's first day at preschool:

She had a wonderful time. She napped, she explored, she got absolutely chuffing filthy. It was a perfect honeymoon start. She didn't cling to her sister, she didn't demand to be held, apparently she just walked and walked and walked. Amazed that there was half an acre of kid-size trails, and new plants, and sand pits to explore. A 'flower vine tunnel', a 'wooden chateau with play furniture'. When I arrived she was toddling around the tangerine tree, and she shouted 'Mamma' as soon as she saw me, but after a brief hug she wanted to be down and free to wander again. When I'd eventually rounded up her older sister and we were walking out of the school, Lucy finally rested her head on my shoulder and gave a huge sigh, glad to give in to the known. Or maybe she was just sad to be leaving the place.


Back to Anna. I think she's picking up on the general stress levels chez K. Our tenants are moving out as we speak (ominous bangs and crashes through the wall in front of me). They were slamming UHaul doors and clanging equipment at 2am this morning. Last night they asked if they really needed to thoroughly clean their stove 'as you'll probably be replacing it right?'. I can't even think about it. We have only rarely been in that apartment since we bought this building 5 years ago, they pre-dated us, once invited a homeless family of 8 to live with them, blamed a broken toilet on low-flying aircraft, and, no small thing, they are hoarders. My anxiety levels are through the roof.

Anna had been hidden away in her room for most of this morning, only emerging for a stealthy sandwich or for some princess wardrobe fix (broken tiara, stuck zip). She was not happy to be told that we'd have to head out to LK's work for a 4th of July party. She was not happy to learn that she'd have to wear a non-princess dress. She moaned in the car, her dress was hurting. 'I am in pain, real pain. It hurts unless I I lean forward like this' (looking back in the rearview mirror revealed a crazy yoga/seatbelt contortion). 'Mom' she whined 'I feel like you're not listening to me! I am EXCRUCIATING!"

My thoughts exactly.

I pulled in to the nearest driveway which happened to be McDonalds. I performed emergency surgery on the dress, pulling out a tiny piece of plastic left over from the tag. Bingo, instant cure.

She started to look around. 'I'm thinking Mom, that I'm going to need some Old McDonalds french fries after that'.
'But you're cured', I said.
'Yes, but I'm still feeling a little sad about it all'.



Nimble said...

My youngest daughter cried at the breakfast table this morning because she said she couldn't eat her oatmeal until I put more in the bowl. She didn't like my scheme of seeing if she would eat what was in the bowl to begin with and going on from there. After barking at her initially then trying to reason with her and getting nowhere I eventually caved. She's the easy-going one.

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