LL Says:

A Little Background: At dinner the other night, I asked Pete if she could lick her elbow (admit it, you want to have dinner with us, don't you?). Of course she couldn't (can you?). Then everyone tried, and Lulu, whose arms are the shortest came the closest. Turns out, though, that everyone could lick their armpit. I'm not sure whose idea it was to try this (maybe mine...), but for the most part, everyone just went through the motion without any tongue-to-pit action to see if it was possible. It was. Husbandguy wouldn't play. He's a .

Now LL Says #1: At Lulu's pre-k assessment on Tuesday, the psychologist asked her to do things like stand on one foot and touch her elbow. Apparently, when she was asked to touch her elbow, she announced, "I can LICK my elbow!" and proceeded to demonstrate.

And LL Says #2: In the car afterward, I asked Lulu to tell me about what they had talked about and the touch-your-elbow question came up, but Lulu "remembered" it differently.

LL: She asked me to lick my armpit!
bel: No she didn't! She said asked you to touch your elbow, and you showed her that you can lick it.
LL (giggling): She asked me to lick my armpit!
bel (laughing): No she didn't, [Lulu]. That's not what happened. You're pulling my leg.
LL: Yes she did, Mom! You don't know. You weren't there.

Then there was so much giggling in the car (front seat and back) that the conversation had to be over.

Six more sleeps until she's 4. :)

Everybody Loves My Baby

With her 4th birthday only 8 sleeps away and the end of preschool only 3 sleeps away, Lulu went today for her pre-k assessment at big-girl school (where Pete goes). What that means is that she went with the psychologist, who tried to ask her some questions, while I met with the principal and told her how fantastic Lulu really is (she already knows - she's known Lulu since Lulu was 4 months old). After the meetings, I met back up with Lulu in the office where the psychologist went on and on about Lulu's "big personality" (her words) and how funny Lulu is and how hard it was to ask her questions because she was laughing so much. The psychologist said (no surprise here) that Lulu is very ready for school. Du-uh. But not only is Lulu a smart little kid, she's also funny and clever and engaging. The psychologist didn't say that exactly, but it was clear that Lulu had pulled her into Lulu Land, like she has done with people her whole life.

And I love that about her.

As a tiny baby, 6 months old, sitting on my lap at Pete's swimming lessons, Lulu would look around at the people nearby and figure out which of the adults (or teenage siblings) was most likely to play with her and then she would proceed to engage that person, whoever they were, mom or dad or grandparent or older brother, and eventually that person would be making silly faces and sounds or playing peek-a-boo or whatever like a big goofball while Lulu laughed for Lulu's amusement. She never failed to wrangle someone to play with her. Seriously. Never.

And now she plays with other children, strangers at 6:30 - friends at 6:35, during Pete's swimming lessons, and at the park or the play area at the mall (a germy place I avoid but that Husbandguy loves for some reason) she always manages to find a friend or 2. For herself and Pete to play with.

At school, her teachers marvel at her ability to bring the children together. She plays with each of the children in her class and one time even managed to organize an impromptu game of ring-around-the-rosy that had all the children, except for the one tired one, going round and round under her direction.

Everybody loves my Lulu, my little leader, peacemaker, teacher, star. I wish I had half of her dynamism.

Happy birthday (in 8 sleeps), Lulu.

Make-Up #1

I believe I owe you 4 poems for flaking out at the end of National Poetry Month. Here's one:

July

A distant fire engine siren,

drawling lazily,

echoes the carpenter bees

hovering, droning

by back yard pools

waiting for rare, languid splashes

from sticky, popcicle-painted kids.

Breathless, oppressive air binds,

blinding, unbending,

thick and wet and hot

like a bathroom

after a long shower.

Even a long rain wouldn't change this,

only leaving more steam

and sulphur-colored heat

in its wake.

LL Says:

Lulu discovered beef bologna last week. She (ew) likes it (ew). She and I were talking about where bologna comes from (she brought it up). She made me stop talking about it with a sort of ignorance-is-bliss attitude but then said this:

"No, we can't eat cows. Cows are our friends and they lay baby cows."

It may seem like she has potential to be a vegetarian if she ever learns to eat vegetables, but I wouldn't bet on it. That kid can put away some murder meat.

Once Again, Proud. of. Pete.

Pete had her Guild audition this past Saturday. It was in the same church where they had it last year, but they had added windows to the back of the sanctuary so I could actually see and hear her as she played this time. I tried not to stare because I didn't want to make her nervous, but when she was playing, I did sneak peeks since her back was to me and I knew hoped she wouldn't be looking behind her while she played. You'll never guess how she did. Seriously. Guess. Fine, I'll just tell you that she did AWESOME. Of course. And later that day we got an email from her teacher saying that she scored a "Superior." I can't wait to see her report card on Tuesday because you can't score a "Superior" without doing really well at a bunch of things.

Then on Sunday, the children's choir director had invited children who hadn't been in choir during the year to come and sit in for rehearsal and just give it a try (anyone could have joined at any time, but the invitation was kind of a come-see-what-it's-about-now-that-we're-done-learning-songs-for-services-so-you'll-know-you-want-to-sing-with-us-next-year), and Pete went. She sat with her arms crossed the whole time, but her lips were moving and she was paying attention so I think the arm-crossing was protective rather than defensive. And when it was over, she came right up to me and said, "I want to do this next year." AW! Me too!! I mean for her. I want her to do that next year too.

The church's music director had stopped by to play the piano for that rehearsal, which I imagine he doesn't always do since he's got his own choirs to direct and stuff, and after it was over, he caught my eye and said, "[Bel], you play piano, right?" and somehow that turned into me bringing home some music to learn so I can accompany them next week. So that was cool. Or whatever.

But this post is about Pete. Please join me in celebrating my Musical Child. I've always wanted a Musical Child.

Plus, also, she's just really cool in general.

Lulu Cut Her Own Hair

Yes, she did. On the couch. Now she has bangs and a little faux-hawk on top, but I managed to make it all look cute without her looking like Daddy.

sigh

Moomy said that I'm having one of "those weeks."

Which reminded me that I was thinking the other day, as I was writhing in itchy agony, that I should make note of the times when I'm not having one of "those weeks" because sometimes it seems like "those weeks" are all I have!

Project and Consequences

Remember our newest project (click here)? A large portion of it got done on Saturday.

Doesn't it look different (from the picture in the other post)? It reminds me of a public park. You know, usable space surrounded by woods. I have big plans for that area, including a fence for the dog and a deck for the husband and a treehouse for the girls. I've already had a benefit from the new space, a bluebird couple has been spending a TON of time there. They're so pretty. If I had a better camera I'd show you, but they don't come close enough to where I am with my little camera to get a good shot. Also, this morning, the goldfinch, the boy one, was back at the feeder by the kitchen window. Yay! Birds!

On Sunday, I spent time clearing away the vines and brush left on the hill, where I'm hoping we'll be able to grow some grass eventually, but I got distracted by some buried treasure.

Those are some of my great-grandmother's iris bulbs. A decade ago, Moomie and I planted a bunch of them in front of the house, and Moomie took the extras and stuck them in the hill around back. I don't think they ever bloomed, and eventually they got over-grown by a miserable vine and some honeysuckle. I remembered they were somewhere near there but didn't know for certain where until I was clearing away the brush. Now they have their own little bed around the side of the house, which was occupied by a puny boxwood 10 years ago.

Sadly, all of the treasure I got from the hill wasn't so pleasant. I knew there was poison ivy there (Lulu says 'itchy ivus') and I thought I was careful, but the irises were such a nice surprise that I think I might have actually been careless because there is now a giant itchy spot on my right arm right where my arm bends and a smaller itchy spot in the same place on my left arm and itchy spots on my neck and shoulders around the collar of my shirt and also a little one down the right side of my face by my eye. Sigh. Itchy ivus sucks. I've been hitting the bottle pretty hard today...

Still, though, you can see all the way to the creek (should be cool to watch from a safe distance when it rains), and last night I saw a rabbit!

I'm Coming Back

Not that anyone noticed... sigh...