Yesterday I was trying to finish the fourth book of the Twilight series that I – along with the entire twelve year old female population in the country – have become obsessed with, so I took my book outside while Ella played in the yard and I was so engrossed with the story (which ended up being so disappointing) that I didn’t realize for 20 whole minutes that Ella had befriended a moth carcass as a friend. She was carrying it around, talking to it and she lovingly named it “Smothly”, which sounds like “Smoffly” when she says it. Now, I don’t know about you but “Smothly” is pretty much the best name in the whole wide world for moth, even a deceased one. Even better, it would be a perfect moth butler name, should you have a moth that was a butler.
We found a fun book at the library this week – Bubba and Beau Meet the Relatives, which is part of a series of Bubba and Beau books. Bubba is a chunky little baby, Beau is his Basset Hound? Coon Hound? Some sort of hound. It’s the best book to read in a Southern accent as they have lines like “Sister, it was better than pickled eggs” (a comment made when Bubba and Beau are in the mud hole) and “Honey, it was frou-frou city” (talking about the time everyone had to dress up). Funny stuff.
Recently is has come to my attention that Ella is really good with her ABCs and her numbers, except she completely forgets the number fourteen every time she counts. To her, fourteen does not exist, evidently. Sometimes when we’re counting I’ll quickly remind her when we get to thirteen that fourteen is next and I’ll slowly say “fooouuuurrteeeeeen” but she just goes ahead and skips along to fifteen as if to say “okay, you get fourteen and I’ll get the rest”. It seems that Harvard will be laying off their solicitations for a while until we can resolve the Mysterious Case of the Missing and Neglected Fourteen.
All of you parents out there will have to tell me if you too have weird ESP/mind reading moments with your kids or if I truly need to seek counseling: I have definitely noticed with Ella that I have other worldly instincts and whether it’s the mothering instinct or it’s because I spend so much time with her, or both, I don’t know. But sometimes in the middle of the night, I’ll be up and thinking about her and at that moment she’ll call out my name. Coincidence? Maybe. Consider this recent event: I’ve been having some small life meltdowns and I was trying to explain to Craig that some of what I’m feeling is that I’m no longer brave like I was when I was “younger” and seriously, you don’t want to hear the whole thing because it’s mostly crazy talk. But anyway, two days after I had the conversation with Craig, I was talking to Ella about this jumpy-climby thing they have at her school and she said she was too scared to climb to the top of it and then she said “but I think you could do it, Mama. You’re brave. You ARE brave.” And then the waterworks started and I became one of those people who submits stories to Chicken Soup for the Crazy Mother’s Soul. Anyway, I just thought it was interesting that she chose the word “brave” when I hadn’t said it to her and even though she was talking about jumpy house brave and I was talking about life changing moments brave, we were on the same freaky wavelength. You dig?
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