Eating, if you can call it that…Mags, today you ate a straw wrapper while I was helping Ellie eat some fruit as we had lunch at Starbucks (now, one of your favorite places). I have no idea why you chose to eat a straw wrapper other than for the shock value of being able to say to me, “Mama, I just ate the whole bag and now it’s all the way down in my tummy.” When I didn’t know what the hell you were talking about since clearly the word "wrapper" eluded you, you were kind enough to take the little piece that you had pulled off the top when you opened the straw, shove it in your mouth and swallow it before I could pry your jaws open to try to remove it. At least at that point, I knew what you had swallowed. Oddly, I didn’t really care. Yes, you ate some green ink from the writing on the wrapper. Probably some other unfortunate papermaking chemicals. But, in all likelihood, I’m thinking a little extra fiber won’t hurt all that much.
This morning, I noticed that you had been in the bathroom off the kitchen a little longer than usual and that you had not called out for “help” as you usually do if you are in there for more than 2 minutes. When I called to see if you needed help, you said “no.” When I asked what you were doing, you said, “…...nothing.” When I tried to open the door, it was locked. However, when I told you to open it to let me in, it only took 10 seconds or so for you to respond. When I opened the door, you had a sheepish smile on your face and a half-eaten wrapperful of Smarties in your hand. There was also an empty sleeve on the table by the toilet. “I was hiding from you and eating my candy.” “Obviously.” Then, “It started out as flowers but then it turned into candy.” Then I think you muttered some of the lyrics from "The Candyman" song from Willy Wonka. (Okay, what have I done to get my 3-year old to hide from me when she eats candy?) Whatever. So what if it was before you had any breakfast? You were given a total of three rolls of Smarties as Valentine’s candy, and after 2 weeks, you still had 2 ½ rolls leftover. Maybe I am too parsimonious with the candy. It certainly was no big deal. When I picked you up and gave you a hug because you looked so damn pathetic in there, you actually apologized to me.
Movies
I am also fascinated by how certain movies are now such a part of your life. For example, if I say, “Go get dressed, we need to run a few errands," you will do anything in your power to stay in your nightgown including rushing onto my bed and hopping up and down to keep me from tackling you and forcing you to change your underpants and put on clothes. However, if I use my best Mary Poppins voice to say, “Spit spot, Maggie, you need to get dressed so we can go on an outing!” you say, “Okay, are we going to go fly kites?” At naptime, when you ask if you can put on your nightie and I agree, you are so overjoyed that you start to sing, “I Could Have Danced All Night.” You spread your wings and flit around the room like Eliza Doolittle. This morning you were reading/singing “My Favorite Things” as if you were a teacher presenting it to your class from atop the IKEA storage furniture... I am also fascinated lately by your song requests in the car – “Step In Time” (weighing in at 8+ minutes) is the current favorite, and I am amazed by how you actually must be visualizing the entire dance number in your head. That song has so many parts where there are no words, and you’ll say things like, “Now Mary Poppins is spinning around!” just based on the orchestration. You are also quite fond of anything George Banks sings – especially “A Man Has His Dreams” – which you call the “other spoonful of sugar.” (That took me a while to figure out, much to your frustration.):
George sings: A man has dreams of walking with giants - to carve his niche in the edifice of time. Before the mortar of his zeal has a chance to congeal, the cup is dashed from his lips. The flame is snuffed aborning. He's brought to rack and ruin in his prime. My world was calm, well-ordered, exemplary. Then came this woman with chaos in her wake. And now my life's ambitions go with one fell blow. It's quite a bitter pill to take.
Bert sings: A spoonful of sugar, that is all it takes. It changes bread and water into tea and cakes. A spoonful of sugar goes a long, long way. 'Ave yourself a 'ealthy 'elping every day. You're a man of 'igh position, esteemed by your peers, and when your little ones come cryin', you 'aven't time to dry their tears and see them little grateful faces smilin' up at you... because their dad, he always knows just what to do... You've got to grind, grind, grind at that grindstone, though childhood slips like sand through a sieve. And all too soon they've up and grown and then they've flown and it's too late for you to give just that spoonful of sugar to help the medicine go down, the medicine go down, the medicine go down...
With all that we listen to this, I actually am a bit disappointed that you aren’t quoting it more. Frankly, that’s the only reason why I continue to oblige when you ask for it. I can’t wait for the day I do something to piss you off and you yell at me, “Mama, you’ve brought me to rack and ruin in my prime!” Or, when I say, “Mags, why did you _________?” (ex. “eat the straw wrapper”) You say, “Mama, I was carving my niche in the edifice of time.”
Sharing
I am really impressed by how well you’re sharing these days. If I buy, say, a container of fruit and try to separate it into two equal parts for you and Ellie, you have a fit. BUT, if I give the container to you and tell you it’s to share with Ellie, you will quite equitably distribute the chunks between the two of you. In fact, today at lunch, you gave her all but one of the grapes, which is the fruit of choice for both of you. I thought that was very kind. You have also developed a pretty effective strategy for getting a toy from Ellie that you want. In the past, you would just wrest whatever the object of your desire was from her little hands and leave her screaming and crying face-down on the floor. As you know, this did not please me. Now, if you want something that Ellie has (still most often, simply because she happens to have it), you scout the area for a
comparable toy/object/whatever. You then kind of force a trade in the name of sharing. Luckily for you, Ellie (being a pretty laid-back kid under normal circumstances) often is perfectly fine with the swap, leaving both of you happy and entertained. And, I’m sure, filling you with some sort of sense of having created a win-win situation.
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