Cutting corners. Specifically a corner between the office and the classroom at Abby’s school. You would have thought I was committing some egregious sin by the reaction I got from Abby and a couple of passing students. Telling dirty jokes in church maybe, or spitting on a baby sparrow fallen from its nest. “Mo-om,” she hissed, “You’re not supposed to cut corners!” I was a bit defensive. “But I’m an adult! and I don't even work here” She rolled her eyes, “That doesn’t matter - the rules apply to everybody!” We marched on to her classroom, where I was forgiven. But when I got back to the office to turn in my visitor badge, the secretary noted that she cut that same corner more than a week ago and the kids are still giving her a hard time.
There was also cutting of hair. Abby’s hair, specifically. It’s very fine and she has tons of it, and it tangles if you look at her cross-eyed. When she was little it was down to the small of her back, but about a month into her first year at school we had it cut to shoulder-length with thick bangs. This suited her round face but it still involved a fair amount of angst regarding its care - brushing it is apparently agony and it always seemed to get tangled into irreversible knots at about her chin. She wanted it long enough to pull back but short enough that it was not a misery twice a day, we got her dad’s blessing, and tonight Grandma took her to get it cut. An adorable inverted bob with bangs; chin-length in front (so the sides can still be pulled back with a headband or barrettes) and nape of her neck in back. I can’t wait to see it live and in person!
Lizzy was a total hoot today too. I got back from a lunch date with my mom (a kid-free lunch! Mom’s been nagging me for weeks to do it) and she wanted to use the Netflix Instant Play to watch “that angwy gween man show wight there - but you have to bundle me when it gets scawy, mom... you can bundle weally good”. Yeah, we made it about three minutes into the Incredible Hulk cartoon before the bundling her wasn’t enough and we turned it off and she went out on the porch to blow bubbles, wearing nothing but her naptime pull-up and shoes.
And apparently blowing bubbles is not enough - not when you can bathe in bubbles. And splash in homemade bubble puddles. And slip-slide through the bubbles. And make friends with random neighbors walking by (we’re on the 2nd floor, so she’s holding onto the railing yelling things like, “Hi! I’m Lizzy, spelled Ell Eye Zee Zee Wye, and I live heah! Will you be my fwiend?” through the slats.) And then she came in with her chest and arms covered in slippery bubbles and I was planning on giving her a bath but she asked to play in the sink. She loves to play in the sink. For one thing, the sink is the only place she’s allowed to spit... and we had a little issue with non-sink spitting earlier in the day. She just stands on her hand-washing stool and splashes in the water, stirring with her toothbrush and dumping water from a little cup (and occasionally spitting), shrieking with glee, until the counter-top is soaked and she’s managed to rinse all the soap off her chest in the process and her fingers are raisiny.
Tonight’s bedtime was not nearly the trial they have been recently either. The fussing and wailing lasted for less than ten minutes!
*Disclaimer ~ this post was written in GoogleDocs during the Great Blogger Downtime of May 2011, so it may be a bit out of date by the time it gets posted on Blogger