Beanie’s take on the Romantic poets: “I was into childhood before childhood was cool.”
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Have just been informed there are two crane flies in the patio room. Their names are Bert and Arugula.
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My kids have been setting up this game of Catan for so long it’s an entirely new generation of settlers from the ones who left the homeland.
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—writes funny tweet
—nah, that’s 100% snark, doesn’t further convo
—okay, I’ll just send it to Scott instead
—he asks me to marry him again
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Neighbor just rang our bell. Dead crane fly in her hand. “Thought your crew might want a close look!” She gets us.
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Huck: Can I get some short jeans?
Me: Short jeans?
Huck: Yeah, like Rilla is wearing.
Me: Ah yes! Jean shorts!
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One of the sweet kids whose classroom I visited on Thursday wrote a thank-you note to “Melissa Lively.” Wondering if it’s too late to change my pen name.
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Personal aesthetic: buttered toast.
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Beanie: You and Rose think in words. Rilla thinks in pictures. I think in colors and sounds. I’m not sure what Jane thinks in. Me: Elvish runes, probably.
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I completed a downright lyrical grant application for a wetland restoration project in LA County today, but my proudest accomplishment of the day is photoshopping* a pic of Adam Driver dropping a cup of coffee on the ground.
*very poorly
*not actually in Photoshop
*in Powerpoint, all right? Look, I was busy.
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In the car on the way to piano lessons, there’s a heavy sigh from the backseat. Rilla: Sometimes…sometimes I just wish I were a mantis shrimp.
Every now and then I like to collect the kid-quips I’ve tweeted and deposit them here, just to keep the family archive in one place. Apologies to Twitter-friends for whom these may be repeats.
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Actual last line of chat with friend last night: “TTYL—must go get hulk out of dishwasher.”
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Rilla just asked me to pour her a “nice juicy cup of milk.”
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Rilla staggers into the sunny morning, squinting. She rages, rages, against the coming of the light.
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Baby boy just figured out how to activate big bro’s toy computer, uttered his first triumphant “YES!” All it was missing was a fist pump.
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How very cool. Scott & girls are at small-venue Suzanne Vega concert (hasn’t started yet) & have a table directly in front of the stage.
Suzanne Vega wished Beanie a happy bday after the concert last night. (Bday was last month; the concert was her present.) Beanie is beaming.
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Prepared for anything: Wonderboy just came to me with his hearing aids to put in, his glasses to clean, and his pirate scarf to tie on.
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Beanie: “Whenever I put honey on our sandwiches, I always make sure there are smiley faces.” Love that kid.
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This moment caught: 9yo sketching amaryllis, the 2 boys playing w/ trains. 11yo reading about B. Franklin. Teen reading Gulliver. 3yo sings. 1:28 PM Feb 3rd
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Big Bad Bunny has become Rilla’s Mike Mulligan & the Steam Shovel, and I’m Beezus.
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She comes to me with socks on her hands & gives a fearsome roar. Then, as she clambers onto the bed: “Did you know monsters love to cuddle?”
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Yesterday: I’m in the rocking chair. Rilla climbs in my lap, arranges herself comfortably, says: “OK, Mommy. Let’s do this!”
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3yo: “When I grow up I’m going to teach my little boys and little girls how to squish gummy bears.” (Pauses. Thinks.) “And math.”
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For dinner Jane made a SCRUMPTIOUS cheese & onion “hogbake” from the Redwall cookbook in honor of the arrival of Doomwyte in paperback.
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Rilla & I just spent 20 minutes watching elephants on Youtube. She very badly wants them to be able to see her back.
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Overheard: “Wouldn’t it be funny if his name were Chris, and our last name was Muss? Get it? Chris Muss?” Ah, 8-yr-olds.
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Playing hangman with the 8yo. Very tricky, actually, because she keeps picking very short words. _o__. No E, T, N, S, or A. My guy’s toast.
Ha! Saved by the L! (It was doll.)
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Was just requested (by 8yo) to draw a picture of a “Norwegian forest cat.” Um.
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The 3yo is demonstrating proper lollipop-licking technique for me. She takes this extremely seriously.
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Rilla asks me to draw a horse. Surveys my handiwork, laughs indulgently. “Mommy! It didn’t need a mouth.”
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ME: I’m worried that (minor detail of story) isn’t right.
SCOTT: Sweetheart. At this stage, that’s like worrying that your font isn’t right.
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The 8yo just asked, “Mom, would you like to hear a short history of the piñata?”
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Rilla, upon seeing the blue button-down shirt the baby was given for his birthday: “We’re going to dress him in MAN clothes!”
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Listening to Scott and four or five children wail to “Like a Rolling Stone.” There is some delicious irony there (“How does it feel..to be on your own”—ha!), and also just deliciousness.
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The 8yo: “Mommy, I am haunted by the temptation to stick a lettuce leaf in the candle flame and see what happens.” (So yes, I let her try.)
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This day so far: donut holes at the park with the younger 5 while the 14yo did mix-y things with chemicals in her science lab.
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Rilla asks me to draw a picture of grandma. I comply. She looks, quivers, says sadly: “I guess it’s okay if she don’t be a ballerina…”
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Today: took a mountain drive, clambered over rocks, gobbled Pfeffernusse, assembled the Galileoscope. Now trying to get the moon in focus. (Dec. 31st, 2009)
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Overheard: the 3yo: “How old was I when I was a baby?” The daddy: “Perfect. You were perfect.”
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Beanie upon trying (and loving) her first green smoothie: “This has liquified my distaste for spinach!”
