sumodancer

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Daddy: Do you know who loves you more than anything?
Bug: Pop Pop!

Your Kiss Is on Her List

There's a ritual before Bug goes to bed every night. It begins with the brushing of the teeth and ends with a "Goodnight, Sweetheart" as one or both of us head out the door.

The teethbrushing in itself is set in stone. Heaven forbid we stray from the procedure in the least bit. Bug must pick up her toothbrush and toothpaste, handing the toothpaste to us. She dips the toothbrush in her cup of water. We apply toothpaste. Brushing ensues. She then rinses her toothbrush, dumps her cup of water, rinses and dumps it twice, fills it up a little, hands the cup to us, sits down on her stool, takes and drinks some water, hands cup back to us in exchange for the towel, dries her hands and mouth, grabs Boobah and heads to her bed. Any variation of this will result in pouting (if we're lucky) with one of the following comments: "I do it mySELF!", "Don't you [whatever we did that she does]!", "I'm sad.", "That not nice.", "I don't like it when you [whatever we did that she does]."; or inconsolable crying (if we're not). But I digress.

Once in her bed (or moose, as she sleeps in it on the floor on rare occasions), we turn on her heater and music, and Bug gets her kisses. Initially these kisses were from Mommy, Daddy, Mom Mom, Pop Pop and Peepaw. This initial list was created by K and me. When we finish the list, we'll ask her if we've forgotten anyone, which is when she adds someone if so inclined. Over time the list has grown to include Uncle B (I think the doctor kit was his ticket in), Miss Mary (from Marycare in Texas), Jem, Slava (the cat), her teachers at school (Misses D, Al, Ham, Am and J), her "friends" (classmates), and Miss S (the teenaged girl next door, who was added after she gave Bug a huge sticker book as a big sister present). With a mind like a steel trap, she will catch without fail anyone we've missed, even if we've tried to use the blanket, "and anyone else I may have forgotten" as the last kiss. She constantly accuses us of forgetting Miss Ham since we have the audacity to pronounce her name "Pam."

Today while in the kitchen, Bug was visiting with Jem, who was lying on a blanket at one end of the room. Usually such visits include petting Jem gently on the head while saying, "She's a little, tiny BAY-bee!", putting a spit cloth ("blankelet") on her, or attempting to give Jem her "pinky." Today she was giving Jem kisses, and we overheard her follow each kiss with a name of someone off her list.

Lyricizing

Bug serenaded us on the way home from dinner tonight. For a while she was singing some song she must have learned at school. "Up and down, up and down, [unintelligible blah blah blah], Miss Ham! Miss A! Miss D!" and so on. At one point she started singing "London Bridge Is Falling Down." After she ran through most of it fairly on-point with the words, she began making up her own. Included in her version were these phrases, all followed by "my fair lady."

• Do you want to break my balloon?
• Do you want to take my balloon?
• Do you want to take my string?
• Do you want to do something?
• Hit the balloon on the chair!

Thank the Flying Spaghetti Monster for Small Favors

Bug had no fever last night before going to bed, nor this morning when she awoke. Since she had the high fever all weekend, I got her in to see the doctor today. The appointment time cut too close to the end of her naptime, but I was able to get her down a half an hour early to compensate. She didn't resist at all. Yeehaw!

The diagnosis is pneumonia. When the doctor said she was going to prescribe an antibiotic, my first question was whether or not I could request a flavor. Bug has opposed any medicine passing her lips that isn't grape flavored. I was mortified when she told me the bubble gum flavor was all they had. The pharmacist gave me a syringe thing to use if necessary to force it on her, but ohmahgodcanyouimaginetryingthatonatwo-year-old? I envisioned cries and writhing and snorting resorting in pink goop flying out of her nose.

She drank it, though. Every drop.

Also worth mentioning is her general demeanor today. She's been in much better spirits and has eaten. While waiting for the doctor she made funny faces at me and herself in the mirror across from us. She's sitting next to me now, leaning into me, humming "Farmer in the Dell." At completely random moments, she'll throw herself over me and give me a hug with an "mmmmmmm."

Merry Christmas

The stage was set.

The subject was less than enthused about sitting.

So she stood.

She would only agree to put on the Santa hat for one shot.

But in the end, we got a good one.

Merry Christmas, one and all!

Sigh of Relief

Today is Bug's first day back at her old preschool. It's also Monday, which typically is the worst day of the week for school.

Taking her in today, I was expecting clinging, crying, whining, refusal to take off her coat, insistence in saying goodbye at the window, more crying, not wanting the teachers to touch her. There was none of that.

It wasn't at all like a Monday, and not at all like she had ever left. She didn't act like she was in a foreign place; she definitely remembered it all. She dropped her bag in her cubby. She took off her hat, coat, gloves and scarf without protest. She didn't insist that I hold her when I needed to sign her in and give the teacher all her gear. She went right to the teacher when she offered to pick her up. She gave K and me the requested goodbye hugs and kisses. And while she said she wanted to say goodbye at the window, by the time I exited the classroom and turned around in the hallway, she wasn't even looking.

In retrospect, her reaction to this shows me how little Bug really adjusted to the other school. Mondays were always so hard there, and mornings met with a degree of clinginess and not wanting to take off the coat and settle in. But that's in the past now. Let's not dwell on it.

The Choo Choo Song

As promised, here it is.

Download The Choo Choo Song (WAV File - 955 KB)

Camping Out

Bug decided last night that she wanted to sleep in her tent. She got in there, asked me to lie down with her and give her a blanket. Once she was settled I left.

Telling K about this later, he wondered if we should try moving her to her bed. Surely she'd be waking up in the middle of the night, freak out from the changed surroundings, and cry like a banshee. We snuck into her room, only to find her so far out in the tent that she was lightly snoring. We decided to leave her there rather than wake her up from such a deep sleep.

Surely, though, she'd be waking up in the middle of the night, freak out from the changed surroundings, and cry like a banshee.

She didn't.

We may need to start looking for a sleeping bag.

July 27, 2005

Bug was in charge of the decorations for Daddy's birthday cake.

Bug Reads the Classics

These days, after every story is read, Bug takes a turn. She flips through the pages and gives her own commentary. Without further ado, Sumodancer presents:

Story Time with Bug: The Three Billy Goats Gruff

Gay Bee Bee! (Great Big Billy)
Bee Bee! (Big Billy)
Lih Bee! (Little Billy)
Eat! Gas! (Grass - The billy goats wanted to eat the grass in the field on the other side of the bridge.)
Bee eat gas! (Little Billy got over the bridge and is eating grass.)
Bang! Spash! (Once Little Billy and Big Billy were eating grass, Great Big Billy headed over the bridge. He encountered the troll and knocked him into tomorrow and is now eating grass, too.)