Tripping on love

When Willa was a small baby she cried more than most other babies. There was a 2 month period when she was inconsolable between the hours of midnight and 3 am. During those times, Jim and I took turns trying everything in our shallow bag of new parent tricks to soothe her. She had a crib mobile that played a song I had never heard before. After pacing the floor and bouncing her in my arms for an hour, I started humming it, and then making up lyrics. Mostly to remove my brain from the reality of the crying baby. Tonight, Willa asked me to sing her that song. I took a breath in, "mama loves you, and daddy loves you and Henry loves you (this is a rewrite to keep up with the times), and the dogs love you, and we're so happy that you are here with us, oh, our beautiful Willa." She grinned, rubbing her cheek on her pillowcase. "Mama, when you sang that all of those people love us, it felt like I was in all different colors." That baby will turn five years old on Wednesday.

She thought she could, she thought she could...

The kids and I were cooking. In a show of good faith, I asked Willa to pour two cups of milk from the glass measuring cup into the bowl. She grinned, took hold of the handle, and... sat there. She took a deep breath, looked up and said, "I know I have to just believe in myself, and I will be able to do it."
She did.

Harsh punishment

I've been meaning to record this for a few weeks...

A while ago, all four of us hopped in the HHR to get supplies for HQ. We were grocery shopping at Meijer, and Jim and Henry drifted. Willa was concerned.

"That probably wasn't a good idea, was it mom?"
"It's okay, we'll find them in a minute."
"But dad should probably have a consequence* to making that bad choice, shouldn't he?"
"What kind of consequence do you think is appropriate, Willa?"
"Um...." she said, while thoughtfully scratching the bridge of her nose, "well, um... maybe something like not letting dad sleep with you for a few nights?"

I congratulated myself for not laughing myself into a puddle. Meanwhile, she made plans for Jim and the couch.

*We've been talking a lot (A LOT) about choices and consequences in these parts. She's catching on.

at the core

"Mom," she said, looking very serious, "I think my brain smells like rainbows."


She's probably right.



In other news, I'm in the middle of an intense/rapid job application process with the State of MI. Fingers crossed pals, okay?

She got my teeth, and his humor

Willa has started telling jokes. Her own. They are long, and involve whatever is in the room that her darting eyes rest upon. They end with her cracking herself up, and me cursing the fact that genetics failed. Clearly, she's inherited her dad's sense of humor. Want an example?

"What did the... uh... uh.... oh! What did the monkey... say to the um... ball?"

And I have to play along. Even though I know that we're not going to land anywhere near making sense. So, I say, "I don't know what did the monkey say to the ball?"

This part she doesn't have to think about. Because of course the monkey would say the following to the ball: "You bounce up and down, and I'll go up in this tree, and pick a banana. And then I'll eat it."

This is very funny to her. She laughs so hard, her cheeks get red, her eyes get teary. And her look of accomplishment is so endearing and sweetly ridiculous, I crack up too.

I am pretty sure that all kids tell these kinds of jokes on their own. It's fascinating to watch someone learn humor and how to work a tough room.

Willa Awesomeness

A week ago a friend who has a daughter about the same age as ours shared that watching his daughter start to put letters together to read words was cooler than watching her learn to walk.

Tonight, I was taking Willa upstairs to tuck her in. On the wall up the stairs we keep the signs we hang on our front door for every holiday. Our Valentine's Day sign is a word with a bunch of wooden hearts around it. She stopped walking and pointed, "mom! That says love! l-o-v-e spells love."

In print, she recognizes her name and Henry's. She knows mom and dad. And maybe a few others. But this was her first non-prompted work, in my book. Look at her read! And what a sweet first step.

Willa shares and there's some music

The most amazing thing just happened...

Willa who is full "I want, I want, I want" mode just came down stairs from her room with a book in her hand.

"Here, Henry, I brought this down to give to you. It's a Harold book, and I know you like those."

I peered at her just above the laptop screen. I think my jaw had dropped.

"What? I thought he would like it, so I'm giving it to him."

I'm typing this quickly so I don't forget. It looks like the Toys for Tots shopping trip and the talks about giving really sunk in past the part of her brain that's been marinating in the toy ads that come in the newspaper and with Saturday morning cartoons.

She's "reading" it to him right now. It's hard to hear over my heart which is singing a little Handel.

4.5 year old humor

Willa: Mom, where's Greta?
Me: Uh... I think she was tired of you and Henry yelling at each other, and she ran away.
Willa: [eye roll. sigh. pause] I think I'll go look for her upstairs.

10 minutes later...
Willa: Mom? Did we get a new dog?
Me: What?! No.
Willa: Come look.
Greta is laying on the floor in the living room, asleep.
Willa: Is that our new dog?
Me: huh?
Willa: You said old Greta ran away, and there's a new dog. This... [arm flourish] is new Greta.

5 minutes later...
Willa: Mom, I think we're going to call new Greta "GretB"
Me: sigh, was that Dad's idea?
Jim: cackling

She carried this on for so long with with such sincerity, I had to ask her if she knew we were just kidding. She giggled and said, "of course."

Dear Scientists

MEMO

TO: Scientists
FROM: Willa
RE: Pluto

"I want to tell those scientists that Pluto should be a planet again."



When I suggested to our indignant sky watcher that she grow up to be a scientist, and speak to others to convince them to reinstate Pluto, she said, "that's a GREAT idea."

Career path: set.

Four Years Old

I've been observing this stranger walking around my house this week.

She resembles someone I feel like I knew. She actually reminds me a lot of me as a youngster.

Willa turned four years old yesterday.

She came down to my side of the bed at 3 am, afraid of the thunderstorm. At 4, I took her to the couch with me so Jim could sleep. We whispered for a while.

"You are four years old now, Willa."
"No, it's not day yet."
"But you were born at 2:51 am, so you're official now. Happy birthday, sweetie."
"Do I look different now, mom?"
"Shhhh....let's talk when the sun comes up."

I nuzzled her back to sleep, thinking about how she and I dozed in a hospital bed together 4 years ago.

I occasionally verbalize my thanks to her for making me a mom. On her birthday, she responded with, "thank you for making me a Willa, mom."

What a great kid, what an incredible adventure.

counting blessings

Willa and Henry were on either side of me, happily nibbling on peanut butter and jelly and chatting with each other.

"I am a very lucky mom," I told them, "I have two wonderful kids."

Willa's eyebrows knitted together. "Mom... am I one of them?"

"How many kids do I have, Willa?"

"Two."

"Well, then you are, right?"

"Good, I hoped so."

Henry laughed and threw his shoes on the floor.

Willa words

Mama, my hair is like a cape for a superhero. A cape that -(wide eyes here) - comes out of my head!

I will be sad when I am a princess and I have to go live in Disneyland*. It's so, so far away from Michigan.

Henry! I need to to be quiet! This said at 3 am at my parents house after he cried for a bit.



* Someone told her that all princess live in Disneyland. I suspect it's the same someone who took her to the store and came home with princess valentines for the girls in her class. Nothing is sacred.

Kid chats

I posted earlier this month that Willa had some nightmares that sounded pretty darned scary. A few mornings ago she snuggled up to me and gave me the dream report: "I dreamed that alligators and lizards and dinosaurs were chasing me." I reassured her saying it was only a dream, and those animals weren't real. She looked at me with (I'm pretty sure) pity. "Mom, they were nice animals. We were playing."

Henry is really communicating well. He says "uh-uh" for no, and nods (in one slow move of chin touching chest) for yes. He's an agreeable chap, for the most part. We had a disagreement over picking Willa up from school the other day.

she got me

While in the shoe section:

"How about those, mommy?"
"No, I don't want you to have shoes with characters. No people on your shoes."
"But mom... Ariel is a mermaid, not a person."

While on the road this afternoon, Willa's backseat monologue was interrupted when she became distracted by construction vehicles next to us.
It went something like this:
"Then the tornado came and twirled Dorothy and her house around and arrrround... and aroun.....

-silence as we went past huge trucks in motion -


[I'm almost certain I saw her shake her head while "coming too" ] uh... what was I talking about?"

Stalling before bedtime

"Let's build a word!"
"Okay, which word?"
"How about... Triassic period?"

Willa's been watching a lot of PBS lately. It's teaching her about letters making words, dinosaurs, and impressing your mom to distract her from "goodnights."

Birds and Bees, the first conversation

"Henry's bagina is funny, mama."


Big breath in -

-and out.


"Henry does not have a vagina, Willa. Henry has a penis."
"A peeeeeeee-nis?!" [insane sugar-hyped laughter] "that's silly!"
"Boys have a penis and girls have a vagina."
"I have a bagina, mama. You too."
"MmmmHmm."
Then she listed every person she ever met, and guessed their gender anatomy with good accuracy. This took a good 20 minutes. I can't wait to hear a report from her teacher this afternoon.

A conversation reported by Miss Whitney

Willa to Seth (Willa's school pal since she was 3 months old and he was 4 months): "I am three now."
Seth to Willa: "I'm three too, Willa!"
W -> S: "No you aren't. I'm three!"
S: "I'm three!"
back and forth for a minute
Miss Whitney: "Willa, Seth is 3, just like you."
Willa to Miss Whitney: "I don't want Seth to be 3."
Miss Whitney: "There are some things we just can't control. Seth is three."
Willa: "I can't control that Seth is 3. Sometimes I can't control my mom and dad at home either."

night and day

Last night she sat in the bathtub while I paged through a guitar songbook.
'"I want you to play ABCD, mama." I played it and we sang together.
"Play catch da moon."
"I don't know that one, Willa. Sorry."
Whines about "da moon" got louder and louder.
I played and sang "Happy Birthday" instead.
She started growling and then yelling. I watched closely to be sure her head wasn't spinning.

This morning while the family was hustling to get out the door, she dragged the mandolin (what she thinks of as her own guitar) over to the hallway where I sang to her last night. She opened the song book and started strumming and singing "Happy Birthday."
She looked at me and smiled.
"Willa, do you know whose birthday it would have been today?"
"I don't know."
"Great Grandma P's."
"Is someone singing to her?"
I hugged her, "you just did, sweetie."