Reagan is a dipper, have I told you this?
She dips everything from goldfish to chips to crackers to cheese slices to pizza to her stubby, little fingers.
Her dips of choice are salsa and ranch dressing but she’ll settle for bbq or marinara sauce if she’s desperate.
What’s worse is that Reagan can be, if left unsupervised (and by unsupervised I mean we glance at our own plates for three seconds now and then) a double dipper. I know it’s gross. Probably your kids are above it but mine feels that one chip can be dipped at least half a dozen times. The chip is literally bending with sogginess from multiple dippings and she’ll dip again, completely unfazed.
If there is even the slightest bit of dip left in her bowl and she’s run out of dipping material, Reagan swipes her fingers around and around until the bowl gleams as though fresh from the dishwasher. This trick often leads to “dip mouth” which means she has a ring of the evening’s selected sauce all around her lips. She then attempts to stretch her tongue this way and that and chase the dip around until it’s all been secured away in her mouth.
Waste not, want not, I suppose. And the dipping continues….
Monday, October 27, 2008
Friday, October 3, 2008
The Lure of the Older Man...
Reagan has often mistakenly called our friend, Jenn, her husband's name--Matt. We correct her, she gives us her "that's what I said" look and life goes on until 20 minutes later when she runs to Jenn with open arms crying, "Matt!"
So today when Reagan kept pointing at pictures and sighing with pleasure..."Matt," I thought nothing of it. She was obviously seeing Jenn in those pictures and was confused, as usual. I started paying attention when she began blowing kisses to the photos...and when I realized Jenn wasn't in them. We have approximately 987 images of the Haraders in our house. They're exceptionally important to us and have been part of many photo-worthy moments in our lives. However, the shots my daughter is most interested in today are those with Matt sans Jenn.
Then we drew some pictures and whenever we do this Reagan asks me to write names. She always, always, ALWAYS asks for Jackson's name first but today she asked for Matt's name before all others.
At lunch she named her tator tots. Guess who's name came up first?
Just now I broke it to her as gently as I could.
"Reagan, I think Matt is great, too. Yes, he's smart and handsome both. Umm...but, Sweetie? He's also happily married and there is a slight age difference between the two of you."
Reagan stared at me, smiled and nodded her head, toddling off laden with two purses, a baby and a red hat. Not even 30 seconds later I heard her in her room singing a song, "Matt, Matt, Mattttt...."
So today when Reagan kept pointing at pictures and sighing with pleasure..."Matt," I thought nothing of it. She was obviously seeing Jenn in those pictures and was confused, as usual. I started paying attention when she began blowing kisses to the photos...and when I realized Jenn wasn't in them. We have approximately 987 images of the Haraders in our house. They're exceptionally important to us and have been part of many photo-worthy moments in our lives. However, the shots my daughter is most interested in today are those with Matt sans Jenn.
Then we drew some pictures and whenever we do this Reagan asks me to write names. She always, always, ALWAYS asks for Jackson's name first but today she asked for Matt's name before all others.
At lunch she named her tator tots. Guess who's name came up first?
Just now I broke it to her as gently as I could.
"Reagan, I think Matt is great, too. Yes, he's smart and handsome both. Umm...but, Sweetie? He's also happily married and there is a slight age difference between the two of you."
Reagan stared at me, smiled and nodded her head, toddling off laden with two purses, a baby and a red hat. Not even 30 seconds later I heard her in her room singing a song, "Matt, Matt, Mattttt...."
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
One More Minute
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.
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.
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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