Looking Into the Future

So we had the world's most wonderful bike ride on the weekend. The weather was perfect--literally not a cloud in the sky. We rode along an abandoned rail line, next to wildflowers and fields. The blossoms were out on the trees.

At the end I said to Spilly, "I hope you remember this day even when you're grown up. I hope you'll remember how great it was to go bike riding with your Mommy and Daddy in the country with the sun shining in the spring time."

"I don't need to remember it."

"Oh." I was slightly surprised. "Really?"

"Do you know WHY I don't need to remember it, Mommy?"

"Why?"

"Because I will STILL be bike riding with you. And I will be living next door to you, and we will get together every day to do crafts. And you know what we'll say when we go bike riding or do crafts?"

"What?"

"LET'S GET THIS SHOW ON THE ROAD."

"Sounds good to me," I said.

An overheard conversation

Spilly: Mommy, did you know that Saint Patrick is still alive?

Mommy: Really? No, I didn't know that.

Spilly: Well, it's true.

Mommy: What's he up to these days?

Spilly: He's in Mexico right now.

Our Visit to the United States of Ohio

So we took Spills south of the border to Ohio this weekend, to visit my brother and his family. Spills was beside herself to be seeing her cousin, and told everyone we met along the way about where she was going. "I am four and a half years old, and we are going to the United States of Ohio to see my cousin for the weekend. And we're going to eat ice cream and play with Buster and Nosey, and I'm going to a soccer game."

It was a wonderful visit. The ice-cream was from Handel's, an institution in their town. Nosey, the hamster, lived up to his name. We met Freakboy the fish. And Spills and her cousin had a monumental play all around the large, leafy property with Buster, the long-suffering family dog. I caught the cousin whispering a couple of times, "Ask your Mom and Dad if you can have a dog for your next birthday!"

On at least one of those occasions, Spilly whispered back, "Daddy says we can't have a dog if we're going to TRAVEL."

My favourite part of the weekend though, was when they discovered the movie-making feature on the digital camera. What followed were several indy flicks, the best of which was entitled, "Sanjaya is Running Away from the Monsters." Spills was Sanjaya. The entire movie was of her running along hallways, looking behind herself in terror, shouting, "Oh, oh, there are the monsters! What will I do?"

Today we are home again, and life is drab for Spills. We have had tears and low feelings. We have made a special invitation for our cousin to come up here to visit, maybe in July. Fingers are crossed. And Spills has already decided all of the things we will be doing, the most important of which, apparently, will be Family Swim. Hope her cousin packs her bathing suit.

Spills' Prescription for Sadness

Every so often, Spills says or does something that takes my breath away, because it is often exactly what is needed at that moment, and at those times she seems so tapped into something life-affirming and good.

Tonight, we were saying our goodnights.

"Don't let the bed bugs bite," she said, then made her customary parrot noise.

"Don't let the bed bugs bite," I repeated.

"And Mommy, if you feel sad tomorrow morning, here's what you need to do."

"Oh?" I said. "What do I need to do?"

"You need to look at the picture on your desk of Daddy and me and that will make you feel better. And if you hear a knock at the door of your portable right after that, it will be me, coming to give you a hug."

Mother's Day

So Spills showed up at my bedside at around 6:30 this morning.

"Mommy. Mommy. MOMMY."

"...Yes?"

"I've got something for you."

She proceeded to sneeze all over me, explosively and with feeling.

"Thanks," I said.

"Happy Mother's Day, Mommy."

"Thank you."

"Now you have to get up, because I have your surprises laid out, and you have to come and turn them over."

"Does it have to be this minute?"

"Yes."

So after some more coaxing and coercing, she got me out of the bed. Her Daddy and I stumbled into her bedroom. There on her bench by the window she had several papers laid out.

"Turn the first one over, Mommy."

I did. It had flowers and a horseshoe on it. It said, "Happy Mother's Day."

"Beautiful printing!" I said. "And I love the flowers and the horseshoe!"

"It's not a horseshoe," Spills said, looking very displeased.

"Oh, I'm sorry. What is it?"

"It's YOU."

"Oh!" I said, looking closer. "Oh, yes, now I see. It's my hair, isn't it?"

"It's ALL of you."

"Yes, so it is."

The other cards were lovely too, some in French and some in English. And there was a book mark, and a lone tea bag.

"Oh, good," I said. "Now I can have a peaceful cup of tea."

"Do you want it right now?"

"Well, maybe not right now. I think I need some coffee first."

"The tea bag smells very good," said Spills. She held it up to her nose. Then, because her nose was dripping, she wiped her nose with it.

"I bet it does."

"Want to smell it?"

"Maybe later," I said.

"Come on, Mommy! Come with me!" She grabbed my hand. "I have to show you your other presents."

The other presents turned out to be (in no particular order): the decorative table on the landing, a plastic container of jam that Spills pilfered from the restaurant yesterday, a Fisher-Price park, a bill still in the envelope on the hallway table, the hallway table, and the booster seat used for Robbie's younger sister the other day.

"Thank you," I said. "This is all too much."

"Did you want to have the jam on your toast this morning?"

"Well, I'll just have to decide about that."

"If you don't want it," Spills said, "I'll have it."

"You go ahead and have it."

She threw her arms around me with gratitude. "Oh, Happy Mother's Day, Mommy!"

Wildlife Up Close and Personal

So we headed out this morning for a bike ride on the Caledon Trail, despite the fact that Spills woke up with the world's runniest nose. "It's just allergies," she'd said.

"What are you allergic to?" I asked. I already knew what she'd answer.

"Worms."

"Right."

Out we went, in the early morning sunshine, surrounded by the soft green of buds opening up. All was silent and fragrant. Until Spills let out the most extraordinary sneeze known to humankind. Followed by another and another.

What happened next was unexpected, to say the least. From the greenery on one side, there was an explosion of feathers, and a grouse or a pheasant (it was a large bird of some kind anyway) shot up and then backward. Then, as if that wasn't enough, a DEER leapt up from nowhere and galloped away as fast and as loudly as it possibly could. We heard it crashing through the undergrowth for some time.

"Wow," said Daddy, after awhile. "Those are some sneezes you've got."

"Why did they run away?"

"I guess they didn't want to be near your cold."

"I know who wants to be near my cold."

"Who?"

"The doctor," Spills said sadly.

Sanjaya and Swimming Lessons

As I was in my room working, I heard Spills announce tonight in the bath, "I'm Sanjaya Malakar, and do you know how I swim in my swimming lessons?"

"No," her Daddy said.

"I kick my legs straight out LIKE THIS."

What followed sounded like a combination of a typhoon, a tsunami and the Nahani river.

"That's great, Sanjaya," said Daddy, sounding kind of muffled and damp.

"That's how I swim in my swimming lessons. Want me to show you again?"

"No, thanks."

Adventures in Gardening

Here are some things Spilly did while we attempted to dig a vegetable garden and generally clean up the yard.

1. Meticulously examined her play gym and loudly announced each defect in workmanship. "Mommy, this swing is CROOKED. Mommy. Mommy. MOMMY. Did you know this swing is CROOKED?"

2. Kept saying grimly, "I'm allergic to worms. Hey, guess what? I'm allergic. Do you know what I'm allergic to? WORMS."

3. Stood on the deck and sang a play-by-play of what was going on, complete with outrageous vibrato: "Weeee are in the garrrrdeeeeeennnnnnn...."

4. Named the new garden, "Seed Secrets."

5. Discovered a whole pile of bright-red lily beetles who, we're sure, are responsible for the swift demise of our day lilies last year.

6. Sneaked around the pine tree several times so as not to disturb the mourning dove in the nest.

7. Changed coats three times and changed mitts two times.

8. Helped poke holes for turnips. Was asked to poke them in a straight line. The line might be considered straight by a drunken person on a ship on a stormy night. Cheerfully poured forty seeds into each hole. The turnips will probably rise up in the night and massacre us in our beds.

9. Kept shouting, "Oh, I'm SO EXCITED!! WE'RE GARDENING!!!"

10. Lined up all the snails we found from smallest to largest and spoke to them tenderly: "Don't worry, little snails. It's okay. We're just making a vegetable garden."

First Piano Lesson

So today I had a medical appointment, and was off school. The appointment wasn't till late in the morning, so Spills and I spent some time together doing this and that.

I said to her at one point, "Hey, do you want to see how people write music?"

"Yeah!"

"They don't do it with letters and words. They do it with lines and circles instead."

So I drew her a staff and showed her "Mommy Treble Clef," who looks after the little note children. We met C, D, E, F and G. Then we met "Daddy Bass Clef" and got to know the kids he's looking after - C, B, A, G and F.

Then, on a roll, we took it all to the piano and we learned how to find C, D and E anywhere and everywhere on the keyboard. Spills was mightily pleased with herself. Our "lesson" concluded with Spilly singing "Are You Sleeping" while playing C and E at the same time, on the beat.

We were then SO pleased with ourselves that we called Grandma and Grandpa, so that Spills could play "Are You Sleeping" for each of them in turn. I could hear Grandpa emoting proudly on the other end of the line. Spills waited patiently till he was done. Then she said, "Yes, but Grandpa, didn't you think it was awesome or something like that?"