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Friday
Oct192007
Life with a three-year-old girl
October 19, 2007
(At the dinner table tonight, after taking about 0.34 bites of splendid navy bean soup.)Â
"I'm full, Mama. I'm all full of food. Look." She turns to me and I expect her to show me her rounded adorable belly. Instead she lifts her little bird arms in a parody of showing off her muscles.Â
"What?"Â I ask.Â
"I'm strong," she says, completely exasperated, because that's what food does, it makes you instantly strong.Â
Then, later, when she has finally convinced me that she is completely full, she needs no more food, not another morsel, I let her get down from the table. Kid A asks me if he can have some more scrumptious Renee-made garlic bread. I say yes, and cut off YaYa's question.Â
"You can't have any more bread because you are full."Â She starts to make those terrible sawing noises, the ones that sound like forests crying because they are being destroyed, the ones that make you shiver in your soul.Â
"Uh, uh, uh," I say, finger wagging and all. "You know the rules. If you're too full for soup, you're too full for more bread."
She rolls her big eyes up at me and lifts one eyebrow in that way she has. "My belly is saying that it needs bread."Â
It is very cool, you know, that she understands Belly. Not many people do.
Later, when we're sitting around playing UNO, and Renee and I are killing ourselves laughing over YaYa's speed of dealing cards, (think of the length of time it takes to make a trail of pine needles end to end down the Pacific Crest, and then multiply that by a thousand) she asks me for some water. I have been popping up and down to get these children things throughout the whole game, and now I ask for just one moment, JUST ONE MOMENT, so that I can sit and play cards.Â
"At the end of the game I'll get you some water," I say. "Unless you want to get some for yourself right now."Â
Her head droops. It seems that she may pass out. Her eyelids are at half mast, fluttering and threatening to close all the way. For good. Her bottom lip is sticking out.Â
"I'm getting very sleepy," she says, not using her saw voice, but her sad, sad, voice, "and I need water because I don't have any allergies." I'm drawing a blank. Finally understanding wins out and I say, "You don't have any energy?"Â
"Yes, I don't have any energy," she says, before hopping off her chair and doing a 50 metre dash with a jump rope.
"I'm full, Mama. I'm all full of food. Look." She turns to me and I expect her to show me her rounded adorable belly. Instead she lifts her little bird arms in a parody of showing off her muscles.Â
"What?"Â I ask.Â
"I'm strong," she says, completely exasperated, because that's what food does, it makes you instantly strong.Â
Then, later, when she has finally convinced me that she is completely full, she needs no more food, not another morsel, I let her get down from the table. Kid A asks me if he can have some more scrumptious Renee-made garlic bread. I say yes, and cut off YaYa's question.Â
"You can't have any more bread because you are full."Â She starts to make those terrible sawing noises, the ones that sound like forests crying because they are being destroyed, the ones that make you shiver in your soul.Â
"Uh, uh, uh," I say, finger wagging and all. "You know the rules. If you're too full for soup, you're too full for more bread."
She rolls her big eyes up at me and lifts one eyebrow in that way she has. "My belly is saying that it needs bread."Â
It is very cool, you know, that she understands Belly. Not many people do.
Later, when we're sitting around playing UNO, and Renee and I are killing ourselves laughing over YaYa's speed of dealing cards, (think of the length of time it takes to make a trail of pine needles end to end down the Pacific Crest, and then multiply that by a thousand) she asks me for some water. I have been popping up and down to get these children things throughout the whole game, and now I ask for just one moment, JUST ONE MOMENT, so that I can sit and play cards.Â
"At the end of the game I'll get you some water," I say. "Unless you want to get some for yourself right now."Â
Her head droops. It seems that she may pass out. Her eyelids are at half mast, fluttering and threatening to close all the way. For good. Her bottom lip is sticking out.Â
"I'm getting very sleepy," she says, not using her saw voice, but her sad, sad, voice, "and I need water because I don't have any allergies." I'm drawing a blank. Finally understanding wins out and I say, "You don't have any energy?"Â
"Yes, I don't have any energy," she says, before hopping off her chair and doing a 50 metre dash with a jump rope.
Reader Comments (10)
Hello, I just wanted to let you know that I found you through Mamieknitsbits the other day, and was spellbound. I started reading, and couldn't tear myself away until my baby woke up again, two hours later. Your writing is so beautiful and original, deeply moving and also warm and funny. I hope you write that book one day.
I too, just love your writing and go to your site when my very suburban life is making me crazy. It lets me get lost in the Land or the Rain or the food made by loving hands. It's an escape to another way of living that calms my soul when the noise of the city blocks my connection to the Divine. Keep writing!
If laughing makes you taller, I must be lots taller now!!!
Oooo, cool new header Rae! Love it. I do miss seeing you from the dashboard's perspective though. YaYa is adorable- dramatic and brilliant and scrumptious. Three year old girls will either drive you to distraction or cause you to want to eat them for all of their cute yumminess.
I love the new look. There is nothing quite like living with a three year old. You can either cry or laugh and I think it is usually better to laugh.
It sounds to me like she has you figured out. lol
Gabrielle and Mary, welcome! And thank you for your kind words.
tj, you're perfect the way you are.
Jennifer, are you proud of me? I made it all by myself. She is driving me to distraction and melting my heart all at once. I throw my hands up about sixty two times a day.
Jessie, you know. You have my daughter's emotional twin in your house.
risingrainbow, it is so hard to be firm when a little girl has a voice like a baby chick.
I think she may have heard me tell Kai that eating all his food would make him big and strong and that it would help him to grow. Oops.
She is getting more and more adorable... and like the others said I think she has you figured out. And she's only 3, uh oh.
rae,
its been good reading these blogs the past few weeks. the race you run to live a righteous life is inspiring.
joseph