I was in the kitchen this morning putting away groceries. The kids were downstairs watching Shrek or something...and Bill was upstairs sleeping with a hot water bottle on his head and the AC blasting and wishing the migraine pain would go away.
Julia came up the stairs and spotted the juice boxes I was putting away and immediately wanted one. She is not always trustworthy with a juice box, so I told her she would need to sit in her high chair if she wanted one. She agreed and attempted to help me drag the high chair (booster seat with a tray, actually) into the kitchen. I picked her up and strapped her in, clicked the tray in place and got a juice box.
"I do it!"
She wanted to rip the staw off the box herself and try to poke it through the little foil hole.
I handed her the box. She wrestled the straw out of the little plastic thing it's stored in and threw the pieces of torn plastic on the floor. "Here Mommy. Get it."
She needed just a little help pushing the straw through, and that was it. I went back to putting juice boxes away and I was thinking about other things I wanted to do while I was home, just to feel like the day was a productive one, and so I wasn't exactly listening when she called my name at first.
She would not be ignored.
She sounded like a teacher...I felt like I'd been caught passing a note in class.
"Jayne!" (just trying it out again)
"You call me Mommy."
She ignored that and pointed at a small drip of juice on her tray.
Yesterday the kids were at the dining room table coloring with their crayons and getting along for the moment, which gave me a bit of time to do something fun, like the dishes. The peace and quiet didn't last long - I heard a little bickering about who took whose crayon, but nothing too terrible until I heard Julia hollering
Only thing was, Alex wasn't saying anything. I tiptoed to the doorway to peek at them. Alex was lost in thought, drawing what turned out to be a dinosaur skeleton.
And Julia was standing up in her chair, holding a crayon and staring out the front window.
She pointed out the window just as Peaches, the Collie across the street, barked again at a squirrel or something.
I was in the kitchen this afternoon. She had said she was hungry, and wanted toast, so I was waiting for the toaster to comply with that demand and reading something on the laptop.
I had told her to go downstairs (it's cooler there - I just think that's where everyone belongs if they don't really need to be in the kitchen) and I would call her when the toast was ready.
Suddenly I heard her little voice:
"Aaa-lex...time to eat! Aaa-lex...time to eat. ALEX! Time to eat!"
And from the depths - "It's NOT time to eat, Julia!"
"Aaa-lex...time to eat! Aaa-lex!"
"Julia, I'm not hungry and it's not time to eat!"
"ALEX! Time to eat wight now! One...tloo...feeeee. ALEX! Wight Now!"
I went over to the top of the stairs, and she was sitting about five steps down, casually leaning back on the step above her, one leg sticking off the edge of the stairs, her bare foot bouncing above the fish tank. She was having a lovely time.
"Aaa-lex...time to eat! One...tloo...feeee!"
I laughed and she turned around, a big smile on her face.
"I said tloo!" She laughed at herself and went back to the business at hand.
"Aaa-lex...time to eat! Wight now! Okay...one....twoooooo....feeeeeeee."