We took the bus downtown this morning to pick up a chronically troubled bracelet. I had taken it back to the store where I purchased it, long ago, at a ridiculous price. Since then, the stones in it have dropped out like baby teeth. So I decided to get it returned to the maker and to try and shame him or her into repairing it once and for all.
So the three of us boarded the UGA bus and rode through campus to downtown. Clara was carrying a pinwheel she had picked up for church last night (more about that later). She left it in the store and we had to return and retrieve it.
We were planning to end our errands by dropping by a cookie shop for a couple of cookies. Clara was sick last night, really, most of yesterday, with tummy troubles. She ate very little and complained about her tummy hurting her, and we spent much time in the bathroom, reading and hanging out.
Today I said, "I don't think cookies are good for girls with tummy problems, Clara."
She raised one finger and said, "Mama, chocolate cookies are very good for resolving tummy problems. That's the way it is."
She got her cookie.
Yesterday, we went to our church supper, which was slammed with people I had never seen there before. Why? The Day School was having a celebration, and many of the people were parents with children in the school. We headed for the upper playground, where C and M will go when they are in school, and it was crowded with children and parents. Neither girl was having fun. Except they liked the pinwheels they got to take home.
Before we left, though, they asked if we could go sit in on the choir practice. It may be just me, but I think it's a little weird for three year olds to sit quietly through 20 minutes of choir practice. A little boy, about 8, the son of a choir member, was playing with a Gameboy while we were sitting there.
After listening to his machine make its loud noises, Clara said, "Ssshhh. You should turn that down."
Thursday, April 23, 2009
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
Bidness
This morning the girls woke up with one thing on their minds: lemonade. Creating and running a lemonade stand. No matter that we live on a quiet street. No matter that the street is closed until fall so the city can install drainage lines. Clara was convinced they would have hundreds of customers. The idea came from a Max and Ruby book, I'm sure. But the girls had their own ideas...until I nixed it, they wanted to give their pennies to customers. I explained why this wasn't a good idea.
Luckily, we had a few lemons in the fridge, so we squeezed them and added real sugar and lots of ice. It must be a dentist's nightmare, with the lemon peeling away the enamel and the sugar going to work. But it was really refreshing.
So we moved their picnic table outside and voila! they had an instant lemonade stand. Clara said she couldn't write, but she could draw, and so she drew a sign that, in her mind, said lemonade for sale. It looked like Japanese haiku.
A student from next door bought several cups, at five cents a cup. He confessed he was nursing a hangover and thought the lemonade might help. Then our neighbor Peter and his mom came by, and then our friend Joan. And then Stuart showed up and gave them much more than five cents for his cup. They were both beaming.
We walked to a nearby toy store and Clara picked out her train. She wants a Brio train that she can use at home. I think it costs $21. The thing I like is that both girls are content merely to look at the many wonderful things in this store, without whining when we come home with nothing. Looking costs nothing. Friends of ours own the store, and they buy the coolest, most interesting stuff. Makes me almost want to be little again.
I'll have see if they want to staff the lemonade stand tomorrow.....
Luckily, we had a few lemons in the fridge, so we squeezed them and added real sugar and lots of ice. It must be a dentist's nightmare, with the lemon peeling away the enamel and the sugar going to work. But it was really refreshing.
So we moved their picnic table outside and voila! they had an instant lemonade stand. Clara said she couldn't write, but she could draw, and so she drew a sign that, in her mind, said lemonade for sale. It looked like Japanese haiku.
A student from next door bought several cups, at five cents a cup. He confessed he was nursing a hangover and thought the lemonade might help. Then our neighbor Peter and his mom came by, and then our friend Joan. And then Stuart showed up and gave them much more than five cents for his cup. They were both beaming.
We walked to a nearby toy store and Clara picked out her train. She wants a Brio train that she can use at home. I think it costs $21. The thing I like is that both girls are content merely to look at the many wonderful things in this store, without whining when we come home with nothing. Looking costs nothing. Friends of ours own the store, and they buy the coolest, most interesting stuff. Makes me almost want to be little again.
I'll have see if they want to staff the lemonade stand tomorrow.....
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
Monday, April 13, 2009
Easter and Cake
Easter was one long, pleasant sugar high for Clara and Margaret. From the tiny chocolate eggs in their Easter baskets, to the giant bags of M&M's in the plastic eggs at the church egg hunt, to the cake at dinner, my girls were spinning all day. The Easter Bunny brought Clara a set of hand tools, just like Daddy's, only plastic. She immediately grabbed a wrench and said, "Tita! when you flush my Big Girl Undies again, I can use this to fix the potty!" and then she set up her Work Zone sign and went to work. Margaret was delighted to see a book about Lisa and Gaspard, two dogs who are friends, along with a new piggy bank.
At church, the sugar had them wiggling and twisting. Our usual place was taken by some CEO's (Christmas and Easter only, as my brother Mark calls the infrequent attendees) so we were thrown into a new pew. This new arrangement didn't sit well with either Clara or Margaret. About 3/4 of the way through the service, M had poopie and Clara had to tinkle, so away we went for about 20 minutes. On our way to the bathroom, we passed a table full of doughnuts, so each girl just had to have one, since they have never had one before, Clara explained. More sugar. But we survived the service and headed to the playground for an egg hunt.
Other kids pushed past my girls when the gate to the playground opened. Margaret headed straight for the swings, while Clara staked out her territory in a play house. A really nice guy we see at the church suppers directed each of them to the random egg, so they came home with candy from four or five eggs. I promptly whisked it away when we got home, but those doughnuts kept them going for hours.
At home, Gene headed to a client's house to finish a construction project and the girls and I settled down to an afternoon of cooking. A shame, really, because all Margaret wanted to do was to go outside and we all had to be inside so Mama could cook. All the food went swimmingly, including a standing rib roast (though Gene called it a reclining rib roast). All except an angel food cake. Clara was helping me add sugar to the egg whites and suddenly dumped about half a cup into the mix. I saw the egg whites fall before my eyes. But we enjoyed the angel food crepe anyway.
It has been raining so much I decided to buy them rain boots. I figure it's a good way to save their shoes, put on the rubber rain boots and turn them loose. The moment we returned from Target, out they went and into a giant puddle up the street. They were splashing and laughing like crazy, and so was I.
"Maybe it will rain tomorrow, Mama," Clara said. "I hope so."
At church, the sugar had them wiggling and twisting. Our usual place was taken by some CEO's (Christmas and Easter only, as my brother Mark calls the infrequent attendees) so we were thrown into a new pew. This new arrangement didn't sit well with either Clara or Margaret. About 3/4 of the way through the service, M had poopie and Clara had to tinkle, so away we went for about 20 minutes. On our way to the bathroom, we passed a table full of doughnuts, so each girl just had to have one, since they have never had one before, Clara explained. More sugar. But we survived the service and headed to the playground for an egg hunt.
Other kids pushed past my girls when the gate to the playground opened. Margaret headed straight for the swings, while Clara staked out her territory in a play house. A really nice guy we see at the church suppers directed each of them to the random egg, so they came home with candy from four or five eggs. I promptly whisked it away when we got home, but those doughnuts kept them going for hours.
At home, Gene headed to a client's house to finish a construction project and the girls and I settled down to an afternoon of cooking. A shame, really, because all Margaret wanted to do was to go outside and we all had to be inside so Mama could cook. All the food went swimmingly, including a standing rib roast (though Gene called it a reclining rib roast). All except an angel food cake. Clara was helping me add sugar to the egg whites and suddenly dumped about half a cup into the mix. I saw the egg whites fall before my eyes. But we enjoyed the angel food crepe anyway.
It has been raining so much I decided to buy them rain boots. I figure it's a good way to save their shoes, put on the rubber rain boots and turn them loose. The moment we returned from Target, out they went and into a giant puddle up the street. They were splashing and laughing like crazy, and so was I.
"Maybe it will rain tomorrow, Mama," Clara said. "I hope so."
Sunday, February 8, 2009
A doctor in the house
The other day, the girls were playing in their room with their zoo of stuffed animals. I heard Margaret echoing whatever Clara was saying. When I eventually went into their room, all the stuffed animals, maybe 20 of them, were lying on the floor with blankets, receiving blankets or clothes on them.
"What's going on?" I asked.
"Mommy, I'm a doctor and I'm treating all these animals," Clara said.
"That's right, Clara's a doctor, she is," said Margaret, nodding.
"I had to give all these animals a shot so they would get better. And now they're resting."
I tiptoed out so as not to disturb the herd.
Later on in the morning, Margaret tried to retrieve one of her bunnies, when Clara snatched it away from her and said, "No! Tita, he's had a shot, and you have to hold him like this," she said, demonstrating how one holds an injured friend. As if he's going to be buried. Margaret nodded and said, "Oh, okay. Mommy, Clara's a doctor!"
The Doctor had an accident in her Big Girl Undies. Rather than put our ratty furniture at even greater risk, I decided to subject Clara to the indignity of a diaper. She was a good sport about it and didn't protest. But she came running up to me about an hour later, saying, "Mommy, change my diapers, because I don't want to get a rash. How would that look for a doctor to have a rash?"
Some days I am very amused. Other days, I feel as though I am negotiating with Hamas. Who's to say they haven't infiltrated our cribs? Negotiating with two wily three-year-olds is very tricky. We negotiate treats, books and activities. A friend gave us a DVD of Max and Ruby, a big sister bunny and her little brother bunny. We let them watch it for up to an hour. Margaret would happily watch it all day. When The Doctor settles down for a good viewing, she forgets to head to the bathroom and has accidents on the loveseat. (I have just learned how to thoroughly clean the cushion.) So we negotiate how long and when to watch. We negotiate holding hands--always in the street and crossing the street and when a car comes--and when to run--on grass, anytime.
Yesterday, an AJC friend came from Atlanta for the day. She wanted to see what I do with the girls. So we went to a nearby school playground, then to our neighborhood pharmacy, where we ate sandwiches at the lunch counter. The short order cooks know Clara and Margaret by name, and know they always want grilled cheese sandwiches. It's just their speed, and the egg salad is excellent. The three of us can eat lunch for less than five dollars.
From there, we went to Earth Fare, where they get pretzels and little bits of chocolate. We like to stroll the aisles, enjoying samples of chips and cookies, cheese and dips. Clara is very fond of dips of all sorts, while Margaret has never met a dairy product she didn't like. My pal was very amused. We then crossed the street to sit on the steps of a gift shop/toy store. The girls like to sit there and eat their treats. My friend wants me to adopt her.
"What's going on?" I asked.
"Mommy, I'm a doctor and I'm treating all these animals," Clara said.
"That's right, Clara's a doctor, she is," said Margaret, nodding.
"I had to give all these animals a shot so they would get better. And now they're resting."
I tiptoed out so as not to disturb the herd.
Later on in the morning, Margaret tried to retrieve one of her bunnies, when Clara snatched it away from her and said, "No! Tita, he's had a shot, and you have to hold him like this," she said, demonstrating how one holds an injured friend. As if he's going to be buried. Margaret nodded and said, "Oh, okay. Mommy, Clara's a doctor!"
The Doctor had an accident in her Big Girl Undies. Rather than put our ratty furniture at even greater risk, I decided to subject Clara to the indignity of a diaper. She was a good sport about it and didn't protest. But she came running up to me about an hour later, saying, "Mommy, change my diapers, because I don't want to get a rash. How would that look for a doctor to have a rash?"
Some days I am very amused. Other days, I feel as though I am negotiating with Hamas. Who's to say they haven't infiltrated our cribs? Negotiating with two wily three-year-olds is very tricky. We negotiate treats, books and activities. A friend gave us a DVD of Max and Ruby, a big sister bunny and her little brother bunny. We let them watch it for up to an hour. Margaret would happily watch it all day. When The Doctor settles down for a good viewing, she forgets to head to the bathroom and has accidents on the loveseat. (I have just learned how to thoroughly clean the cushion.) So we negotiate how long and when to watch. We negotiate holding hands--always in the street and crossing the street and when a car comes--and when to run--on grass, anytime.
Yesterday, an AJC friend came from Atlanta for the day. She wanted to see what I do with the girls. So we went to a nearby school playground, then to our neighborhood pharmacy, where we ate sandwiches at the lunch counter. The short order cooks know Clara and Margaret by name, and know they always want grilled cheese sandwiches. It's just their speed, and the egg salad is excellent. The three of us can eat lunch for less than five dollars.
From there, we went to Earth Fare, where they get pretzels and little bits of chocolate. We like to stroll the aisles, enjoying samples of chips and cookies, cheese and dips. Clara is very fond of dips of all sorts, while Margaret has never met a dairy product she didn't like. My pal was very amused. We then crossed the street to sit on the steps of a gift shop/toy store. The girls like to sit there and eat their treats. My friend wants me to adopt her.
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