3/29 Scraaaa! Do you know what a scra is? It’s a kind of ghost. You shouldn’t touch it or it will make you sick, because it’s a poison ghost.
3/31 But the baby was TOO QUICK for them!
Amy was playing / narrating a fantastic story outside today while I was working in the garden. I wish I could remember all the best parts. There were three wicked / mean / evil queens / witches / fairies, Maleficent, Carrabosse, and Sillyhead, and they did name-calling, and scraped people with knives, and put people in high towers with no escalators, elevators, stairs, or doors. There were more horrifying details I didn’t share — some really horrible like people being cut up, and some less horrible like stepping where the mom had planted things.
4/1 Introducing: Princess Claritin. And her friends, Princess Prednisone and Princess Tylenol. They also come in cracker shapes that will help you get better.
4/4 Gladiator has been renamed Bela Fleck.
This is momentous. This rag doll has been Gladiator for as long as I can remember — at least two years, maybe three.
Me: I have good news and bad news.
Amy: What’s the bad news?
Me: Those tights with holes in the feet, they’re too worn out to mend.
Amy: What’s the good news?
Me: Here are some new legwarmers! (holding out legs of said tights, cut off from feet and top)
Amy: Oh! 🙂 Where did you get them?
Amy has created a Wal-mart in the living room. She is carefully setting out all of the wares — particularly the cookies. “You can buy anything you want in my Wal-mart!”
Amy: I’m going to start drinking now, Mom. (talking about a water bottle, in the car)
“If I had a sister, I’d call her Winky!”
Last night, I found Amy asleep with her book light on and a book wedged under her back.
You cannot control
The people you love, Amy;
This morning Amy was playing tag with her imaginary friends. Hilarious.
Daddy? You can just start eating when you want to. I’ll let you do that. ~Amy
Amy: “I’m thinking about something to get for Daddy’s birthday, too… can we get him a prince costume?”
It is hysterical to listen to Amy and her grandma talking on the phone.
Lately, Amy has been saying “especially” a lot. Except she really means “and,” “or,” or “also.”
Amy informed me this morning, in all seriousness, that she couldn’t eat breakfast yet because her list (scrawled on a bit of notepaper) said she needed to dance first.
I don’t understand passionate enthusiasm for spaghetti coupled with dislike of eating it after two or three bites.
Understatement of the year, by Amy: “I like to say things.”
Amy, when I got down the stairs first: “Daddy and I won LAST!!”
Amy is now making up a story with Jesus among other favorite characters. At one house they had communion together. “And then he drove to the airport and a plane came and they went to Indiana and the pilot gave him the invitation that came from that one house…”
”My name’s Princess.” “My name’s Obed. My wife’s name’s Ruth.”
I’m Princess! I’m a beautiful girl, six years old, ready to be in the old house in Paris, all covered with vines. [unclear] I can play on the playset, Madeline’s playset, she’s so kind to me, even Miss Clavel loves me…
This morning, dresses
Covered the floor of your room
Sweet funny sad angst
I guess she couldn’t decide what to wear, and somewhere in the frustration and anxiety took all the dresses down, every one, and then panicked about putting them away again.
Amy: My body’s being rude but I told it not to and my body obeyed because I’m in charge of my body!
dry erase marker on her quilt, dentist toy box self-inking stamp on dolls, walls, and toys, and there’s still lip balm on one doll and some other items.
is irritated by “coincidences” of naptime or bedtime Amy suddenly having to pee at the same time that I turn on the computer or turn off the TV or otherwise do something apparently interesting.
Amy says bacon is boring. And she doesn’t like turtlenecks anymore, either.
The ride to church this morning was extremely educational. Amy discovered, among other things, that “4 plus 4 is EIGHT!!!” and that 1 plus 3 and 3 plus 1 give the same result, and that church and lunch both end with the same sound, and that six ends with x.
Amy’s fake laugh might be one of the more irritating sounds in the world. Her real laugh, on the other hand, is delightful.
Minutes after I explained that the nasty way Amy was talking to me hurt my feelings, she insisted that it hurt her feelings that we decided to take a break from desserts for a while.
Empty yarn cone = stool, megaphone, mic, race / dance cone, step, hat, cast / bandage… all within fifteen minutes.
Amy, yarn ball band wrapped around her arm: Hmm, my blood pressure is fine!
Amy woke up wailing last night because “there’s a bone moving in my hand” — she didn’t remember that this morning.
Amy: Mom, can I have the keys?
After finding the dining hall otherwise occupied, Amy and I got some pizza from Mark and his AP students, then the three of us went to the lake behind the science building. She was running around with sticks, stirring the lake, throwing sticks in, having a grand old time.
Amy, thinking about the beach this afternoon: I’ll only play burying games in the sand. Maybe we can play Bible games — like killing people.
Choking back the surprised laugh, I asked if killing people was a Bible game? “Yeah — someone killed Jesus.” Later on, she was playing with two little dolls, and one died, and in turns the fairy godmother, Jesus, and Aslan renewed life. But the fairy godmother makes a new sister, and the spell only lasts until midnight.
At the beach, she suddenly remembered what she’d planned, and had me bury her — apparently I was the chief priest and she was Jesus. Then I had to be Aslan and come breathe on her.
Amy spelled her first word on the fridge (besides her name) without any prodding: BUT. (She meant the rear kind.)
Today, Amy graduated high school at the tender age of 21, proclaimed her love of beer, married a prince, had a baby, took the baby on a playset, and fed the baby dessert.
Amy just woke from her nap, came out looking disheveled, said “I’m so tired,” and when I suggested she could go back to sleep, she actually did. She was up an hour and a half too early this morning, and still awake rather late last night.
Last night I had to tell Amy to turn off her light and put down the books — at 11:30. At 1:30 we were both awakened by a deathly scream (interrupting a perfectly good dream about scrubbing potatoes)– she’d gone to the bathroom and accidentally turned on the fan (and therefore had an accident).
Amy: Now I’m not going to play either, and I’m not going to do anything, and I’m not going to just stand there either!
Mom! I’m TRYING to make you ANGRY! You’re SUPPOSED to be angry!
Amy, opening her door nearly an hour into bedtime: “Daddy? Can I say ‘bless you’ to Mom?”
Today’s impromptu science lesson: the voicebox (anatomy) and voiced and voiceless sounds (linguistics).
She enjoyed putting her hand on her throat to feel the vibrations when she talks, sings, and laughs, and she found the distinction between the “p” sound and the “b” sound (“p” without any vowel doesn’t vibrate; it’s voiceless), and discovered by herself that “k” is also voiceless.
As we were heading out the door, Amy was telling me something about “The Princess of the Lord.” The way she synthesizes diverse things is fascinating.
A few days ago, a mean girl in one of her made-up stories was “put with the hypocrites.” Her group of invisible friends (or paper dolls, or role-playing characters, depending) includes Bela Fleck, the Disney princesses, other musicians she likes, and completely made-up people like “Ellen.” Sometimes Jesus joins the group. Sometimes Jesus, the fairy godmother, and Aslan are all involved in the same story. She loves “Lament for Frankie,” a slow air on a Solas album, and tells / acts a story where Princess Tiana’s sister Frankie dies, so Tiana sings and / or dances Lament for Frankie, and then Jesus or Aslan brings her back to life. The first time she started having the fairy godmother do it, but changed her mind because then the spell would end at midnight. (And who wants to only have a sister until midnight?)
Today it is a little hard for me to trust that Amy will eventually care about being kind.
Sometimes the apparently cold way she mistreats the cat or shows no feelings whatsoever after kicking her dad in the head (except upset that anyone’s upset with her) gives me pause.
Amy: When will you be able to read a story to me?
Me: I don’t know. I told you to go to your room. [Cat chasing again.]
Amy: I did. I had a really nice time in there.
Very fun spelling words with Amy on the fridge and seeing her light up as she sounds them out and recognizes them. And then tries her own: AHQ, or ABD, and so on.
Amy’s dinner suggestions all shot down: pizza (no sauce), spaghetti (no sauce), cornbread (had it last night), mac-n-cheese (had it night before), bratwurst (last night)…
After I spelled “Ha ha” I asked Amy to spell “Ha ha ha,” and she did! Math AND language!
Sometimes it’s good when your child’s drawings are unrecognizable. Like when she draws menstrual cups.
Amy: No, you go to YOUR room!
Mom, if I was a baby, I’d milk you!
When your child nonchalantly returns from the kitchen saying “Lots of smoke, like a charcoal grill,” pay attention.
Amy, to grandma: “I drew a menstrual cup! Look, it’s in her hand. Look, a menstrual cup drawing. A menstrual cup? She’s got a menstrual cup in her hand. I did a private drawing, mom!” (And on and on)
is rather frazzled by a long day of listening to Amy politely order everyone around, and is not really up for prolonged crying over fireworks noise. Again.
Amy loved the fireworks — pretended to be drawing them on the sky, echoed the bang — she was done about halfway through, but let us stay and mostly enjoyed the rest.
Amy starts swim lessons at the lake today. She did great and loved it. She misunderstood the schedule a bit, though, as she asked what we would do on school days. (Also, she does her arms in the wrong direction.)