So maybe Reagan listens to us after all.
Yesterday morning she tiptoed into our room at 7:09 a.m. I sensed her presence more than heard her. She stood about 1.5 inches from my head and breathed and tried to keep herself from giggling. I knew she was there but I didn't want to wake up yet. She couldn't take it and finally whispered, "Mom." When I didn't perk up, she said it again, "Mom."
I opened an eyeball and stared at her but still didn't speak. Once she had my attention, she was just all wiggly and bouncy and she said "Good morning!" 45 times or so.
She calmed down, realizing I wasn't joining her enthusiastic greeting of the dawn. She pointed to my alarm clock and said, "one more minute" as I have I don't know how many mornings. Then she sat on the floor, cross legged to wait.
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
Friday, September 5, 2008
Reaganisms
A few Reaganisms...
When she sees us doing something she wants to do: "I, too! I, too!"
When she wants to be held: "Hold it, Mommy. Hold it."
When she's cold she wraps her arms around herself and says "brrrr" and shakes and makes a horrible face.
When she's done with the tickle monster: "No tickle me!"
When she's put her babies to sleep: "Baby night, night. More baby night, night."
**This deserves some explanation. Reagan doesn't say "another" baby. She says "more baby" meaning any other baby other than the one she's currently holding. She lines them up in a row on her window seat and kisses them. Then she covers them in a blanket and sings them a song. Then we both tiptoe out of the darkened room and shut the door.
And finally...
Reagan knows the cats live outside and she takes this living arrangement very, very seriously.
"Kitty, outside! Outside!" (If Psalms or Autumn so much as look at us through the glass)
"Kitty, out, out!" (As we leave the house, if they're within a 10-foot radius of her; this expression is accompanied by a kicking action that I swear she hasn't seen from her mother).
If one of them manages to dash inside the house, Reagan immediately starts yelling, "Get kitty! Get it outside!" Then she chases the invader all through the house (which leads me to wonder why they even try) the whole time hollering at me, "Oh, NO! Mommmmmmmy!! Get kitty! Get kitty!"
I'll give you some more Reaganisms as they hit me. Sorry for the lack of posts lately. I've just been swamped with LIFE and haven't had time to write about it.
When she sees us doing something she wants to do: "I, too! I, too!"
When she wants to be held: "Hold it, Mommy. Hold it."
When she's cold she wraps her arms around herself and says "brrrr" and shakes and makes a horrible face.
When she's done with the tickle monster: "No tickle me!"
When she's put her babies to sleep: "Baby night, night. More baby night, night."
**This deserves some explanation. Reagan doesn't say "another" baby. She says "more baby" meaning any other baby other than the one she's currently holding. She lines them up in a row on her window seat and kisses them. Then she covers them in a blanket and sings them a song. Then we both tiptoe out of the darkened room and shut the door.
And finally...
Reagan knows the cats live outside and she takes this living arrangement very, very seriously.
"Kitty, outside! Outside!" (If Psalms or Autumn so much as look at us through the glass)
"Kitty, out, out!" (As we leave the house, if they're within a 10-foot radius of her; this expression is accompanied by a kicking action that I swear she hasn't seen from her mother).
If one of them manages to dash inside the house, Reagan immediately starts yelling, "Get kitty! Get it outside!" Then she chases the invader all through the house (which leads me to wonder why they even try) the whole time hollering at me, "Oh, NO! Mommmmmmmy!! Get kitty! Get kitty!"
I'll give you some more Reaganisms as they hit me. Sorry for the lack of posts lately. I've just been swamped with LIFE and haven't had time to write about it.
Goldfish Pond
So yesterday was rough around here. I had a gazillion writing assignments due or soon to be due and my toddler was restless. I managed to save some time by recording my voice saying "No, Reagan. Put that down, Reagan. Why? WHY, REAGAN?!" and just hitting play when appropriate.
In the afternoon it got a bit warmer (or I just didn't care anymore; not sure which) so Reagan and I went outside for a while. I knew I needed to get a proposal done so I let Reagan play in the backyard and I sat at the dining room table watching her through the screendoor and writing longhand. She came in and out to show me things (including her little beach bucket full of water) while I listened to my stomach growl and tried to think of what to write next. (It's a teensy bit difficult to concentrate on hotel management trends when one is face to face with a cold, wet toddler holding an open container of bubbles over a semi-clean floor).
I decided we needed food. I gave her a few goldfish crackers in a bowl and she sat on the back step to eat them. I poured myself some and we both munched along feeling better already. Then the phone rang. Like an idiot, I went to answer it.
After hanging up on a person trying to sell me something I certainly don't need, I came back to the dining room. My goldfish were gone. The bowl was there but the tasty, cheesy treats were lost to me. I whipped around to see Reagan standing at the door with an excited look on her face. She cried out, "Mommy, see goldfish! See goldfish pool!" I looked past her and there on the cement patio was her little plastic, purple bowl filled with all our goldfish...and rain water.
"Goldfish swim," Reagan announced and she clasped her hands together in satisfaction. Of course I was instantly furious combined with a furious pride in my girl. How smart is she? She made me a pond and for far less than the landscape guy wanted for it. She's brilliant and...horrid.
Reagan went down the step to further delight in her now-bloated and sickly pale goldfish and I sat back down to write...and tried not to think about my growling stomach.
In the afternoon it got a bit warmer (or I just didn't care anymore; not sure which) so Reagan and I went outside for a while. I knew I needed to get a proposal done so I let Reagan play in the backyard and I sat at the dining room table watching her through the screendoor and writing longhand. She came in and out to show me things (including her little beach bucket full of water) while I listened to my stomach growl and tried to think of what to write next. (It's a teensy bit difficult to concentrate on hotel management trends when one is face to face with a cold, wet toddler holding an open container of bubbles over a semi-clean floor).
I decided we needed food. I gave her a few goldfish crackers in a bowl and she sat on the back step to eat them. I poured myself some and we both munched along feeling better already. Then the phone rang. Like an idiot, I went to answer it.
After hanging up on a person trying to sell me something I certainly don't need, I came back to the dining room. My goldfish were gone. The bowl was there but the tasty, cheesy treats were lost to me. I whipped around to see Reagan standing at the door with an excited look on her face. She cried out, "Mommy, see goldfish! See goldfish pool!" I looked past her and there on the cement patio was her little plastic, purple bowl filled with all our goldfish...and rain water.
"Goldfish swim," Reagan announced and she clasped her hands together in satisfaction. Of course I was instantly furious combined with a furious pride in my girl. How smart is she? She made me a pond and for far less than the landscape guy wanted for it. She's brilliant and...horrid.
Reagan went down the step to further delight in her now-bloated and sickly pale goldfish and I sat back down to write...and tried not to think about my growling stomach.
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