Piper Finn Willow
Mix a little foolishness with your serious plans; it's lovely to be silly at the right moments. - Horace
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I Can Tell That We Are Gonna Be Friends
I have long chronicled this relationship. Emma and I joke that we want these kids to get married (in the far far far far far distant future) just so we can have the world’s best photo montage/slide show/blue-ray extravaganza at their wedding. It could be like a feature length film. They’ve been friends. They’ve been enemies. They’ve been in between. Shoot, they have even shared underwear! So it was with bated breath (Not really – I don’t even know what that phrase actually means. Someone else care to look that up for me? Thanks.) that we met together this July Fourth to see how the two two-year-olds would manage a…
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The Best
Piper likes to say, “You’re the best, Mom.” And then she adds, “You’re the best mom in the whole world!” Then I say, “No” and she says, “Yes, you are!” It’s an adorable game. Except she’s wrong, of course. I am not the best mom. Not in the whole world. Not in the United Sates. Not in South Carolina. Not in my neighborhood. (I don’t exactly live in a neighborhood.) Not even the best mom in my own house some days. I am not. In truth, I am only the best mom in my little Willow’s eyes because I am the only mom she has ever known. That’s it.…
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happiness. wisdom.
At the end of this school year it seems that London’s reading skills have finally taken off. She reads everything. All the time. Beckett wore a shirt that had an arrow and said “He did it”. London cracked up and whispered to me, “Mom, I think Beck’s shirt is perfect because it says he did it. And he probably did.” There was a sign hanging in Sally’s laundry nook. “Hey Mommy,” London announced. “I think this sign might be wrong. It says ‘farm’ then ‘dairy’ but it probably should read ‘dairy farm’.” And forget spelling any secrets out loud any longer. “What? It’s bed time?” Or “Hey everybody –…
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The Magic’s In The Music . . .
I’ve been telling you my Little Willow is smart – right? Well. Now she is an accomplished songwriter as well. She wrote this little piece just this evening and repeated it endlessly as she ran circles around our kitchen’s center island. Here goes . . . I love my mommy. I love her more than the most. I love my mommy. She’s great. So far I am loving this melody. Sing it, sister! But then the words took another decidedly different direction altogether . . . And we never say stupid. And we never say hate. Never. Never. Never. Do we say flub-a-dub? Is flub-a-dub a kind word? I think…
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Can Someone Please Define Normal?
Yesterday was a normal day. I have a lot of those. I’ll just go ahead and highlight three examples of events or conversations that contributed to the normalness of the day. Just three, mind you. Three examples of normal. (Except maybe I am not entirely sure what normal means anymore. That’s possible. Indeed – probable.) Example One: Disclaimer: Some of my children may be rapidly approaching the age when I can no longer share these stories unless I use an alias for them. So we had better all enjoy this while it lasts.) Piper Finn and Otto Fox were napping. Riley was reading a book. (Wait – that can’t be…
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everyone thinks their own kid is funny. so do I.
One kid. Two stories. Because I can. The First. Yes. We are still bribing Finn to use the bathroom somewhere other than her own pull up. After one such attempt (and success!) Finn requested her reward. “I want sad-you-seize.” she informed me. “Sadducees? Like in the Bible?” I asked her. (Hey, she’s like a genius or something. Maybe she had been reading up on the Sanhedrin and stuff. You never know.) “No, Mommy. Sag-you-see!” “Okay, Finn. Why don’t you just show me where these sag-you-sees are.” And she took my hand and lead me to my desk and reached for my container of orange tic-tacs. Oh. Sag-you-sees. The second. Today…
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Little Lions
After some substantial debate as to how spend last Saturday, our family ended up attending a festival held at our daughter’s school. It was nice. We ate BBQ, listened to story telling, looked at a few crafts, petted a goat or three and bounced in inflatable squares of craziness. But one thing we did not do while at the festival was let the kids get their faces painted. There was no reason really. It just didn’t happen. The line was too long or we were too hungry or whatever. I don’t know. But when we got home the kids could not stop talking about how all they really wanted was…
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You Know What This Means
Piper Finnian is finally being allowed to climb into the loft bed in her bedroom. Do you know what this means? It means this little baby girl of mine is less of a baby girl today than she was yesterday.
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Truce
The relationship between Piper Finn and Beckett has been turbulent since their first meeting. Their two years together have been filled with highs and lows. The highs – sweet photos, short hugs, occasional sharing. The lows – pushing, smacking, hitting, general lack of kindness. This weekend, a new level of understanding was reached between these young friends. While enjoying a taco together on a recent outing, Beckett and Piper sat beside one another. Beck leaned in and bumped his fist a few times at Piper. Piper leaned in toward him and whispered, “Beckett?” Beckett put down his fist and said, “Huh?” “No fighting today, okay?” Beckett responded, “Okay.” And their…
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How We Roll
Recently Mosely asked if she could dress Piper Finn for our day’s outing. I said yes. Not only because I like to encourage sisterly love and older sibling helping, but because it was a busy morning. Kevin was out of town. Breakfast had not been served. (Or, more accurately, breakfast had not been passed out in cellophane wrapped squares. Hey, I think they were organic pop tarts, does that make it better? Who cares – right?) I still had to dress Wilder. London couldn’t find her other Chuck Taylor and Bergen was not satisfied with the choice of button up shirts I had placed on the table for him to…
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I Wish This Was More Unusual Than It Sounds
As Piper was just heading to her nap, she said, “I poo on little people.” I sort of laughed. Because it sounded funny, okay? And then, because I wanted to move on to my next task, I said something like, “Oh, okay. Sleep well, Little Willow.” And she said, “I poo on little people.” Insistent – eh? Not satisfied with my response? Alright Piper. “Oh. Well, Piper. Don’t poo on little people.” And then she pointed to a basket on her floor. Full of Fisher-Price Little People. Uh-oh. Now things were beginning to make more sense. Unfortunately. The Little People victim was not hard to spot. The brown smear across…
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This Game Needs A New Name
One of the most enjoyable aspects about raising kids has been the opportunity to pass on games and activities and tradtions that I played as a kid. And just this week I remembered a new one. Funeral. I think we made it up one long ago Virginia summer at the Wickstrum’s farm. It’s a simple game, really. Probably born of hot summer days and looking for excuses to not run around outside. One person pretends to be, er, dead. The, uh, dead person lies on the ground alone, arms crossed. After the deceased is lying still and his face is composed, the other players enter the room. The goal of…
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Why You Should Always Read The Label First
Check out the sweet sweater little Willow is wearing in this photo. Isn’t it cute? It’s wool. I bought it at the Gap maybe eight years ago. For myself. But one day I washed it. And dried it. And now a two-year-old is wearing it.
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