An update on the Good News Girl, and some pictures from the trusty phone.
This girl. We found a tree by the river the other day. Apparently it was cold. No, I'm sure if I'd asked "Oh, is that tree cold?" she would have said "No! I'm just making it pretty!"
She got a long-overdue haircut the other day: her first bangs. I finally know what it's like to really feel like she looks like me. Maybe one day I'll find a picture of little me with bangs to prove it to you. Don't worry though, Auntie T, she is still very much your twin.
She's gotten a little bit more into crafts recently. Or maybe I've gotten a little bit more into providing crafts. I'll get us all set up to do it, and her imagination will catch fire and she'll just go bonkers playing with the craft supplies. And goal-oriented me is all, "We WILL glue the puffy thingies onto the paper!!" and she's all "But first they have to take a nap and go into this cave and get bitten by this crocodile and this one is disobeying his mommy and they need a snack and PIXIE DUST and..." And then I take a deep breath and remember that if she's entertained and using her gray matter, that was my whole goal to begin with.
She puts her own twist on everything. I'd say she marches to the beat of her own drum, but it's more like she flounces to the beat of her own imaginary flautist.
She adores her combination ballet-tap-gymnastics class, and she is still all about fancy fancy princess things, and she loves her swim class while steadfastly refusing to let her face get besmirched with water. Many of her playmates right now are a little younger, and she is so sweet and maternal with them. Whenever Oz has been asleep they act like their reunion has been years in the making. Such joy! Such peals of laughter! Such rapid-fire cheek kissing! (On her part. You're still as likely to get a bite as a kiss from him.)
Today she was thinking about one of her favorite songs, "Five Little Ducks" off of the Wee Sing Animals CD (you know it, right?...) The ducks keep going out to play, and one refuses to come back every time until none come back. And the mother quack-shouts at them, and they all come back. She said, "At the end, it's funny AND sad. It's bofe. It's bofe funny and sad." Four years old and she already knows the secret of life.
Over dinner when I was laughing at something she said she got all crazy-eyed and tight-fisted in fake exasperation and exclaimed, "WHY AM I BEING SO FUNNY THIS AFTERNOON?!"
She says "betend" instead of "pretend". I realized during a very strange disagreement the other day that she thinks that a flock of geese is a "Canad of geese." She still says "lellow" instead of "yellow", and her lisp is hanging on by a thread. I don't want those things to go.