Fingers in Ears

So today Spilly and I got to watch Beauty and the Beast for the first time. It was very exciting and required a lot of clutching of each other.

When it got to the scariest parts, Spills put her fingers in her ears.

"It's okay," I said to her. "You don't have to be scared."

"I'm not scared. I'm - I'm annoyed at this part. That's why my fingers are in my ears."

"Oh," I said, and decided it was wisest not to pursue the matter further.

Music and Atoms

Spilly and her Dad had a talk about atoms yesterday. She was amazed to think that all things are made up of tiny particles that we can't see. She also couldn't quite believe it was true.

"Is water made of atoms?"

"Yes."

"Is the table made of atoms?"

"Yes."

"I know one thing that isn't made of atoms."

"What's that?" her Daddy asked.

"Music. "

Lovin' the Spills in her Various Forms

I said to Spilly, "You know what I feel like when I'm driving home at night?"

"What?"

"I get a little bit happier, and then a little bit happier."

"Why?"

"Because I'm coming home to see you."

"And what do you say when you get in the driveway?"

"I say, 'Oh boy, I'm going to see her in a minute!'"

"And what do you say when you get to the door?"

"I say, 'Oh, I'm even more excited, because she's going to be on the other side of this door?'"

"And what do you say when you see me?"

"I say, 'YAHOO!'"

She thought for awhile. "But what if I was a cricket in an egg?"

"Um," I said. "Well, I'd love you in your little egg, and I'd say, 'Oh, I hope this cricket comes out to visit soon.'"

"And what would you say if I hatched out of my egg, but I couldn't talk yet. I could just go like this." Spills mouthed 'peep peep' without making a sound.

"I would say, 'Hello, little cricket! I will teach you to talk. It's very easy. Just do this.'"

Then followed a truly silly session of Peep School, as Spilly-the-cricket tried to learn how to do it properly.

"What if I was a teenager cricket?"

"I'd say, 'Hello, little teenager cricket! I love you!'"

The Teenager Cricket launched herself at me off a step-stool and shouted, "I love you too! PEEP PEEP!"

Fortunately I caught her.

Important Information

Spilly said to me this morning, "I know Sanjaya's first name."

I said, "Oh. Well, you know, though, I think his first name is Sanjaya."

"No, it's not."

"Really? What is it then?"

She leaned forward and whispered, "Mister."

Sanjaya Entertains the Patients

So we've just returned from a weekend with the grandparents. While we were there, Spilly and her Grandpa went off on a pilgrimage around the neighbourhood. They generally take the same route each time, and it usually culminates in a good romp behind the hospital, where there are ramps and squares and green spaces (not so green at the moment).

On this particular visit to the hospital grounds, Spilly decided one of the squares was a stage. In a voice loud enough to cheer up (or frighten) the patients within, she announced, "And now, ladies and gentlemen, let me introduce....Sanjaya Malakar!!"

She then ran to the centre of the stage and began to sing "Ain't No Mountain High Enough" with complex choreography.

When they got home, Grandpa dug out his DVD of "Standing in the Shadow of Motown." Together they watched Chaka Khan and Montel Jordan singing the same song.

Perhaps when Grandpa comes to our house next, we'll dig out our video of the Mighty S singing it. Grandpa and Spills can duke it out over which version's better.

Packing Again

Well, we're off to the grandparents for a couple of days, for Easter weekend. Seems like we just unpacked and washed everything!!

Spilly is insisting on taking some hand-me-down nightgowns (or goonies, as Grandma calls them) with her to show her grandparents that she is now big enough to wear them. They used to belong to her cousins. They've been hanging in the closet forever, and I've always thought of them as being about twice as long as Spills. Now she fits them perfectly. Sigh. She's delighted.

I said to her, "We've let you grow this much, but it has to stop now, because you have to stay as my little baby."

"Mommy, I am not a baby! I'm a little girl!"

"I know, but that's as far as it goes."

"Mommy, when I eat supper, I grow."

"No more supper for you then," I said.

Her mouth dropped open. "But if I don't eat supper, my eyes will dry out, and I might get some kind of an infection like pink-eye."

Exercising with Spills

So, I have just begun my post-Portuguese penance (all those sardines are still swimming around my tum). I put on an exercise DVD this evening, and foolishly asked Spilly if she'd like to join in.

She started well, gamely doing the walking and side-stepping and knee-raises beside me.

"Am I doing it right, Mommy?"

"You're doing great!" I said, trying not to walk on top of her.

"But I should take off my socks."

"Sure."

Once she had taken them off, she walked some more. Until: "I think I'm going to take my shirt off now."

"Why do you need to take your shirt off?"

"So I can just have my undershirt like those ladies."

It was true that the ladies all looked like they were wearing their undershirts.

"Well...all right," I said. Then a minute later, when the shirt was stuck half-on and half-off her head, I had to undo the button at the back, while still trying to march to the beat and swing my arms around.

Once properly attired, she did the steps for a moment longer. Then she noticed her yellow balloon (mine, actually, from my birthday a few weeks ago). She marched over, grabbed it, and began throwing it at me. She found this fun until, after the ninetieth time of telling her to stop, I got frustrated.

This led to her sobbing, "I'm going to go and live at Robbie's house!"

"Okay, see you," I said, still trying to do my kicks to the beat.

She sat on the stairs after that, muttering things. Then, she returned. More specifically, she sulked her way across the room in front of the TV screen, and threw herself into the armchair. And hurt her hand. And was comforted. And discovered the pillows.

"Mommy, I'm going to put the pillows under your feet so it will be soft for you."

"No," I said, doing double side-steps. "I don't want pillows under my feet."

"I'm going to do it!"

"No thank you."

"Why not?"

"Because I would lose my balance on them and fall down, and it would hurt."

"You wouldn't," she said. "See?" And she stepped on one of the pillows, lost her balance, and fell down.

After that, she began concentrating on my arms, which she felt were doing the wrong things. She began rearranging them for me. Then she got behind me and did the moves in the most obtrusive place possible. Following which, she tried to attach the yellow balloon to the TV so I couldn't see the screen.

....All of which, I realize, was a not-so-subtle reminder that my kid, who is just coming off a week of non-stop Mommy, is starved for a bit of parental interaction and willing to risk parental fury to get it.

Fortunately, the DVD finally ended, and we played "Mom's going to pop the balloon, so you'd better run."

This exercise thing is going to be an uphill battle.