Adventures

This morning while driving the posse to school we passed a very petite little person using their own two feet (imagine such a thing) to get to their place of learning. A discussion then took place inside our car about the age of this person, about how there is just no one to do push-ups with them during P.E. because they'd squish their small-ish toes, etc. At the end I did my parental duty and Aesop'd it by saying "This is a good reminder that we should be kind to everyone, because we all come in different shapes and colors."
"Yeah!" K.J. added sagely, "A person's a person no matter how small."

HA! A parenting moment! I think I said something along the lines of "HA! You are exactly right, K.J."

"A person's a person no matter how small."
Who knows what musical that line comes from?

I'll give you a hint: It starts with Seuss. And ends with -ical.
My kids love that show, and I'm fond of it as well, because I love that little ditty and sing it to myself often: "A person's a person no matter how small." I think there's truth there.
I am impressed Kaje would pull that out of his hat, though, because it's probably been a year since he saw that show, and unless I sing it out loud more often then I think, he's just drawing on his Horton the Elephant sized memory here.

I know it might not be popular, but I just enjoy being a Mom. I think it's so stinking cool.

Olivia and I went to get our hair cut yesterday -- just a little reshaping, you know the drill -- and Olivia has been admiring herself ever since. And with good reason... she looks most beauteous. If there's a breeze, she's moving her little head to get best hair advantage. There seems to be an extra bounce to her step.
When I was a little girl, I wanted nothing more then to have Rapunzel hair. Probably because my hair was about as thick as a sheet of paper and was by necessity, very short. It's true that I was occasionally asked if I was a girl or a boy up to the fifth grade (I'm obviously deeply scarred). Due to this series of unfortunate events, I deeply, deeply desired long hair. I'd walk around with my head tilted back imagining that someone would see me and think "Now there is a foxy lady."
Naturally, I assumed my own little girl (carrying my chromosomes, after all) would also want long, long hair.
Not so.
She hates when her hair gets longish. She gets mad at me -- like somehow it is my fault that it grows. Really, I think she's mad I don't get her in to see "Sister Hill" more often. She hates getting her hair brushed more then just about anything else on earth, and the fact that that has to happen every day is just insult to injury. Short hair makes that event a little less traumatic for all involved.
Thankfully, she looks stinking adorable with her short little pixie cut and there can be no confusion that she is anything other then the cutest little freckle-faced girl there is.
Phew.

Katelyn has been having vacuum adventures this morning... I left it out so that I can wade into the abyss that is my children's room and find a floor to vacuum at some point today... but that button has been calling Kate's name. The first time she pushed the power button it "roared" at her and she jumped a mile. Of course, to Katelyn this sensation of pure unadulterated adrenaline is attractive, so she stared the vacuum down for a few minutes and then pushed the button again. Then again. And again and again and again... Mommy finally saved the vacuum and her own sanity and unplugged the device. Katelyn looked at me like I'm a total weirdo and then walked away.
Sweet.
This child -- we haven't had another one like her.
The Double B and I were discussing her many merits last night as a complete wild woman and were wondering if this trait will stay with her as she grows. I stood brushing my teeth and pondering about the fixes she could get herself into and then decided as her Mother, perhaps I could come up with some sort of policy if she's ever bungee jumping and flinging herself out of airplanes or rock climbing or deep sea diving, and it will go like this: Don't Tell Me About It Before, Just Show Me The Pictures After.
At this point, that sounds good.
Of course, she could surprise us. Maybe she'll develop a passion for knitting and spend her life on the couch making blankets for the needy.

Good. Good idea, Marie. Then all your sissy dreams will come true.

Of course, that's not really the point. I know Kate will grow up be a kind, faithful, funny, wonderful human being. A human being that I suspect might want to take up extreme dirt biking.
And that is A-OK.
Be bold, my daughter. Be bold.

Speaking of which, that daughter is sitting on my lap, holding the keyboard while Mommy types on it. She is a good girl.
And I think she's done writing on the blog for the day.
So.

Go forth and serve.
And... scene.