I guess I need to round up these bits from Facebook more often — I am sure I posted a lot more than that between April and November, but this was all FB would show me!! ETA: I forgot about Activity Log! Now I can access everything.
Amy: Would anyone want these desserts for the poor? … The leftover ones are for the poor!
”Why did they take her pants off?” asked Amy, looking at the “How you were born” book.
“I’m going to use all my muscles on this — I’m going to put all my power on this — I have the power to do this — it’s hard work, but I can do it.” Amy helping me with the pasta machine, turning the crank.
Enjoyed watching the last dance class of the season — Amy is the youngest in the class by two years, and while she can’t do everything, she keeps trying and keeps smiling, and she’s made lots of progress.
How I love to hear Mark and Amy playing together.
Amy (after I called out a question to her from another room): I’m busy playing; if you’d like to talk to me, you can come in here.
Our long day: school, three stores, park, library, Taste of Michiana… ten and a half hours in Mishawaka.
Some kinds of conversations make me feel crazy.
Mark: What’s in the package?
Me: Coconut oil.
Amy: Why did Daddy ask that question?
Me: Because he wanted to know the answer.
A: That doesn’t make sense.
Me: It does to me — he didn’t know what was in there, so he asked, and I told
A: (heavy sigh of exasperation)
Me: Why doesn’t it make sense to you?
A: He should have figured it out himself.
Me: How could he? The package isn’t opened yet.
A: He should have asked someone to open it.
Me: It makes more sense to me that he would ask what’s in it than that he would
ask someone to open it.
A: I don’t understand what you’re trying to say.
Me: Because I’m doing the dishes, and I can answer him while I do the dishes,
but I can’t open the package while I’m doing the dishes.
A: Oh, I see. Now it makes sense.
Amy does not often want to write — but today she was enjoying a joke so much she wanted to write it down:
A: I see Kocka.
B: Icy? Why is she so cold?
Today, Amy scraped up cat puke, and hung out some laundry, both without being asked, and without needing any help. And when Mark suggested that one of her chores could be sweeping up kitty litter in the bathroom she uses, she was overwhelmingly enthusiastic. She even ate her radishes. (Well for one thing, she’s absolutely enthralled with puke. Her favorite story right now is about a family that eats each other and throws each other up into the garbage.)
Amy found an unripe cherry on the ground below the tree. I asked if she might want to put it on the table and draw a picture of it. She is drawing a whole situation around it: There’s a girl eating the cherry (her mouth is full) and holding a lollipop, and her foot is on a pedal that operates the elevator, and she’s standing on the floor.”
Enjoyed watching Amy and a younger Spanish-speaking boy figure out how to play together across the language barrier. It was also fun to see his grin and hear his laugh when I clutched my heart and fell movie-style to the ground when he “shot” me with his pistol-stick.
Amy told me this morning, “I went to sleep really well last night, dreaming of Ms Ann! The mail carrier was trying to put mail in her mailbox but we moved there. And so, they went to her house instead. And Ms Ann said, “Hey! Where’s Amy?” And then Amy came and cuddled with her.
“Look, see? They put onion and garlic on there. On this salmon,” says Amy, pretending to eat a framed picture, “I’m eating it right now!”
Amy is now listening to the theme from The Godfather. Yeah; it’s on the Andre Rieu “At the movies” CD she chose from the library.
Let out the gala, let out the gala
You’ll be surprised when you let out the gala
They’ll bite you and they’ll tight you…
(Amy’s apple song.)
I wish the gala would come out
This is how (mumble… yawn)
Amy has been on a “studying the Bible” kick today.
So… who else’s kid plays pretend about Jesus? Jesus rescuing drowning people… Jesus healing cuts and scrapes… Jesus needing to be healed or raised to life… Jesus’ daughter doing things that Jesus can’t do…
Amy: Mom, if you’re still alive, and I have to go somewhere, I’ll see if you can watch my children.
Amy has been having an interesting day. She made her own lunch because she didn’t want what I’d made. She made a necklace with tiny beads (I threaded the needle, Mark tied the knot, she did the rest). And just now she made “money pops” — pretend popsicles made from stacks of Junior Monopoly money and clothespins.
“My book is dedicated to YOU!”
Amy: “I’m trying to make my hair look like a princess skirt for nighttime.” (I.e., parting her bangs in the middle.)
Amy: “Maybe I won’t get married after all. I think I’ll just live with Mr. Chad and Ms. Xenia instead. Or if I do get married I’ll bring my husband with me.”
Me: “Maybe you’ll live next door.”
Amy: “My husband can live next door! He’ll be really close to my house.”
Amy just knit three or four stitches. Poke, wrap, pull, slide.
Amy used the litter box.
Amy has been studying “How to talk so kids will listen and listen so kids will talk.” She says she is working on her parenting early.
The cat just jumped up on the armchair next to Amy and is settled in, purring.
In Amy’s play this morning, Mary moved away when she was a teenager, and the rest of the family sold baby Carrie to her. “Here is Soldat du Chen, and here is another great soldier, his wife, Soldat du Lily… And when I came in space I found her reading a book sitting on the moon. How can you take a book up and read it on the moon?”
Amy: I think I’ll be a musician, a ballerina, AND a church pastor when I grow up. I will be most famous for my dancing and my music. And the Sunday School I do. “First, the parents have a free time to do ladylike plays and gentleman plays, while the kids have Sunday School. Then the kids have a free time and the parents have Sunday School. And then there’s the service. See? That’s how my church is going to work. I’m going to be the only pastor. If I see a church for sale, I’ll buy it.”
And now she’s singing lightly and cheerfully, while playing with her dollhouse, “Dirty, dirty deeds! Dirty, dirty deeds!” Except for the words, her song bears no resemblance to the ACDC version, which she does not recall ever hearing, nor do we recall her ever hearing it.
Tomorrow Amy gets to see her new classroom and meet her teachers. And go hang out at our friends’ farm. And go to the science department barbecue. The classroom looks a lot different now that it’s no longer both the early childhood director’s office and the teacher training academy classroom — so much space! There are four other kindergartners in the class — one other girl, three boys — one of the boys was in her class last year. Her good friend Ella will be in her class again, too. She likes her new teachers.
Enjoyed the science dept bbq this evening — especially noticing Amy playing well with the other kids — there were conflicts, but they resolved and play continued. I want more of this for her.
Amyisms: “I can bet!” (instead of “you bet”)
“How much is it degrees?”
”It’ll be fun to control MY children!” ~Amy
And to Mark, “Today in school I felt so proud of myself.”
Amy: “Because I got along with Ella!”
“Daddy, I’m sorry I accidentally stuck my tongue out at you. It wasn’t on purpose — I didn’t mean it.”
And tonight as she’s trying to spread jelly on crackers —
Me: I’m sorry it’s hard for you.
Amy: That has nothing to do with this! All you have to say is, “I’ll do it for you.”
Amy yelled at Mark when her timer went off, he calmly reminded her not to yell, and she calmly went to her room and pounded her fists on the bed, then came out laughing.
I remember worrying that Amy would never “get” pitch and rhythm. And now, after just three or four times of hearing it at church, she can sing “One bread, one body” and stay in key.
Fascinating conversation of the day: “Mom, what would you do if we were homeless?” Her plan included going back to the house, finding that the robber who stole it was living there, and living in our tent at our campsite, next to a restaurant. And in the winter we’d build a brick house with a basement for tornadoes.” She insisted that she would let the robber keep the house and wouldn’t call the police.
“one thousand six, one thousand seven, one thousand eight, one thousand nine… then what?”
Amy: When I grow up, I’m going to be an organist.
Amy is thrilled to have tights again with the approach of cooler weather. How I wish they didn’t get holes in them so quickly.
Amy just drew a wine bottle, with a cork. And a fairy.
Amy is going around the house lifting things with the canning jar tongs. And at the communion rail, after receiving her blessing, she whispered to me that she’s going to play church with her Legos later. Oh, and she had Sunday School at the new church for the first time — choir and Sunday School both started today. She had a great time, and the kids rejoin the service in time for communion. And Fr. John Schramm sent some kid’s books about baptism and communion home with us (to borrow?). Amy was sad to miss the Peace in church. She loves getting hugs from everyone, esp. Fr. John.
Amy: Mom, my underwear and socks drawer is going to be the only drawer I keep sloppy. My summer leggings drawer is going to be NEAT and TIDY. When you open it, you’ll see and say “Oh how nice! How inviting, to pick out a pair of pants!”
Amy is singing Three Blind Mice at an impossibly high pitch with great fervor.
Amy just made her first “Do not enter” sign. At least it says “Thanks” at the end.
Well, I guess “You’re as pretty as me” is a *little* better than “na na na boo boo, I’m prettier than you”
Me: I’m not sure putting sand in your underwear is a good idea.
Amy: Why not?
Amy is making a pretend dulcimer video, complete with spoken introduction.
Now she’s on to the bongos movie, which involves using the bongos like a megaphone. “Chapter One: The Fax Machine.”
A little later, “Chapter Two: The Band. First we need to put oil in our instruments and tune them…”
Amy and I are lounging sickly in bed. She is reading On the Banks of Plum Creek — for real!
Amy: You can’t have croup when you’re in a uterus.
Amy freely admits that she would like to be the stepmother in Cinderella — she would love to make everyone else do everything. The disadvantages are not yet accessible to her.
it is dismaying that kindergartners are already judging one another by appearances — who’s prettier, who’s got better clothes… Amy dearly wishes she had curly hair, is playing that if one Barbie doesn’t wear X dress, the others will make fun of her, daily reports about whether one friend taunted her with “nah nah nah boo boo, I’m prettier than you” and so on… today she said the friend said Amy would always be a LITTLE prettier.
Amy just wrote her own chapter book about meanness. Well, she dictated it and wrote some of the chapter headings.
Amy tried to hide her candy from herself by closing her eyes while she stuck it under the bed.
Amy: Mom, I’m going to take a video of this movie so we won’t have to get it from the library anymore.
What is the problem with you, my friend?
(Says one of the characters in Amy’s latest book. A previous iteration was “What’s your problem,” which she meant sincerely and kindly and didn’t know it usually comes across as insulting and dismissive. So this is her edited version.)
Amy tasted wine. She did NOT like it. She thinks she might wait until she’s 10 — no, 12 — to take communion.
In other news, she also decided to take a bubble bath. Using her entire bottle of shampoo.
Good news! According to the theology of concomitance (says Fr. John), she can just take the bread.
Amy chose the Mexican place for her birthday dinner. And ordered a hamburger and fries.
Amy: Dad is probably the wisest person in the house right now.
Amy: Grandma? Sometimes I laugh so hard I drool!
Amy did her first communion today. And even took the wine.
(A little grimace after, and then done! She got her picture taken with the other first communicants (there were four altogether — and two confirmations), plus a picture of just her with Fr. John and Bishop Little.)
I am being treated to a dulcimer concert.
Amy cheerfully cooperated — closed her eyes and gave me her blanket to wrap the present in until we got to the cash register, and closed her eyes again while I bought it.
And then she just handed me a picture she drew of a Thai restaurant, including a menu with “Pad Tie” on it and “Tie Tie” in bowls around the table…
Amy: When you hear footsteps, you know there’s no time to lose — you just have to get busy again.
Amy: Sure, I’d love to play a game with my favorite Daddy.
Amy: You get more prizes, Mom, because you have the computer, and you love me, and you do Special Time.
Amy accidentally put her SD memory card in the DVD drive of the computer…
Amy (singing): I sort out my Chex Mix, because I love you.