And so that was Christmas

Here we are on Christmas Eve. Don't we look happy? There's a long story about footwear, and lack thereof, that I could go into here, but it would take too long and it's not really all that funny. Suffice it to say that it was a close thing that all of us ended up with appropriate shoes on our feet.

Here is Phoebe eating her weight in mashed potatoes at Christmas dinner:

Speaking of eating, these cinnamon rolls were delicious, but this apple pie wasn't worth the trouble.

Here's Mallory after writing a note for Santa Claus, in which she asked for a "baby kitchen." Which she got the next day! Boy is Santa smart!

Here is Phoebe on Christmas morning. She was terribly excited about presents:

The obligatory sleepy-eyed in pajamas on Christmas morning pic:

The kitchen, lovingly assembled in the dead of night by me and Chris. By the time it was put together -- the night before Christmas Eve -- we were too tired to hide it, so we just locked the door to the playroom and hid the key. The next day Mallory tried to get in the playroom and I said, very cunningly, "Huh. I can't find the key. Oh well, it'll turn up." She was much intrigued and told everyone about the "mystery of the door." Then on Christmas morning, when she'd unwrapped her last present and was looking around for more, I found an envelope on Santa's cookie plate. "It has your name on it, open it up!" I said. Mallory tore it open, and out fell the key. The note was from Santa, of course, and he said that he had not only found the key to the playroom door, he had left a surprise up there as well. Mallory was just ecstatic. And both of them love the kitchen.

Phoebe also loves this fake Dairy Queen shake; she carries it around everywhere proclaiming, "A cup! A cup!"

Mallory's first culinary creation from her new kitchen:

Mallory's second-favorite present was this Ariel Underwater Adventure castle. Phoebe likes it too:

Okay, that's it. We had a good one, hope yours was good too. Now on to 2007!


Christmas Wishes


May your children be nestled with visions of sugarplums, rather than restless with hacking coughs and stuffy noses.

May you not have to hear Barbra Streisand sing ja-Jingle Bells.

May you remember that Santa is always watching, but that he’s pretty forgiving.

May you not cut off and sell your beautiful long hair to buy your husband a watch fob, only to find that he’s sold his watch in order to buy you hair clips.

May your cinnamon rolls rise.

May snow fall, but not until you’re safe at home.

May your place of employ give you a better Christmas bonus than a coffee mug and a window cling. But if not, may you go with your co-workers to deliver Giving Tree gifts and realize how truly blessed you are anyway.

May you not have to go anywhere near a mall for the next two weeks.

May your car stop making that weird noise because there’s no money left.

May you and your loved ones be surrounded by loved ones.

May your 1-year-old with erratic sleep habits go to bed on time on Christmas Eve so that you can put together the wooden play kitchen that Santa dumped, unassembled, on your front porch last month. May the directions be easy to follow and the electric screwdriver fully charged. May your children like the kitchen better than the big box it came in.

May you wear elastic-waist pants for Christmas dinner.

May the children in your life have sparkly eyes, sticky fingers, and an undimmed sense of wonder. May they sit still for at least one good picture.

May there be peace on earth.

May you get your heart’s desire.

May all your Christmases be just right.
Posted by Picasa


I Got Nothin'

...so here's a really cute picture of my kid!


One thing I noticed whilst reading my diaries last week was that dudes, I used to be smart. I was all, "As Nietzsche said," or "As George Eliot so richly depicted in Middlemarch," or "I think I'm more of an Augustinian than a Pelagian." Huh? I want to know two things: What was I talking about, and where did all that knowledge go? Is it gone for good, or is it just lying dormant in my head, waiting to re-emerge once I no longer have to devote all my brain matter to calculating whether we have enough fruit snacks to last through the week, or contemplating what, exactly, is in that sippy cup behind Phoebe's bedroom door that I keep forgetting to retrieve, or wondering how I'm going to get Mallory to stop pinching me every time I tell her no? Will I ever quote anything besides Sandra Boynton or Dr Seuss again?

I mean, I guess it's worth the trade-off, but still. Dude. I miss my brain.
Posted by Picasa


An Annunciation and Other News

Yesterday was Mallory’s preschool Christmas pageant. It was cute; she was an angel (or dressed like one anyway); she sang, she signed “Jesus Loves Me,” she was one of four children specially selected to play the handbells. I briefly envisioned her choosing the handbells as her dedicated extra-curricular activity. Twelve years of attending handbell concerts would be better than twelve years of soccer, or debate, or I don’t know, wrestling. We shall see. I didn’t get any good pictures because I spent most of the event trying to keep Phoebe from climbing into the baptismal font.

After the pageant, I went to collect my angel, and her teacher greeted me with a huge beaming smile. “Is it true?” she said. “Is what true?” I asked. “At circle time, Mallory said that we should all pray for you,” Miss S. explained with a knowing grin. I immediately started saying, “No, no, no, and no,” and Miss S. said, “Oh, so you’re NOT having a new baby?”

No, I’m not, but for some reason Mallory told the entire class that I was. Her teacher said that maybe Mallory knows something the rest of us do not. I think Mallory was just lying. In fact I asked her about it later and she said, “I was just wondering what would happen if I said it.” I then asked her if she wanted another baby and she said that yes, a baby brother would be nice. Sorry, not going to happen.

I will say that I was absurdly flattered that her teacher was so excited about the prospect, and so disappointed when she found out that Mallory was a big fibber. I take that as a sign that she likes the kids I do have (she and her assistant always make much of Phoebe too). But we – as in me and Chris -- are quite happy with two. And Mallory can make do with just a sister.

In other news, Mallory has decided that her favorite Christmas song is “Go, tear it off the mountain.” (No, I haven’t corrected her – it’s too funny.) After one rousing rendition, she said, “You know the part where they say, ‘that Jesus Christ is born’?” Yes? “That’s the part where I make my praying hands.” Good for you!

She also announced that she has a boyfriend – James, a boy in her class. I had to squash my immediate response, which was, “James! He’s a troublemaker! How about Stephen, he seems very nice and quiet.” Funny how automatic that seemed. I asked her why James was her boyfriend and she said, “Me love him so so much!” Not ready for that at all…

And, last night she asked me, “Did you have a way to watch TV when you were a little girl?”


“How did you do it?”

“Well, we just…had a TV. We turned it on and watched it.”

“But I thought you grew up on a farm.”

“I did.”

“You had a TV on a farm?”

Yes, and running water too!

I feel compelled to add something about Phoebe…let’s see. Oh. If she wakes up and finds any matter of sheet, blanket, or other bedding encumbrance around her feet, she will yell, “Help! Help! Help!” until it is completely removed. She loves, loves, loves the game Hullaballo, which Mallory got for her birthday. In fact I had to hide it because if she sees the box, she will cry and cry until we get it out for her to play. She says, “Ho ho ho!” when she sees Santa. We went to the mall on Sunday to get Santa pics made (a bad idea, a very bad idea) but she had a complete meltdown after spending an hour in line (I sympathized) and my father-in-law just took her home. So we have a picture of Mallory in Santa’s lap, but no Phoebe. Maybe I’ll have Chris photoshop her in. A very digitally enchanced Christmas to you!


Thank you, thank you very much

One thing I dislike about the holidays is writing thank you notes. When I was little, a few days after Christmas, my mom would sit us all down at the kitchen table with a list of thank you notes to write and not allow us to get up until they were done. Actually it probably wasn't that draconian, but we were expected to get the notes completed without complaints or dawdling. Now, it was good and right and proper for my mom to make us do this, and to instill into us the thank you note habit, but I hated it then and I hate it now too.

The very thought of writing a thank you note just makes me feel weary. My wedding was the worst. I had four different showers, and then the wedding itself, and oh I had such a huge list of thank yous to get through. Deep dark confession: I never finished. I wrote five a night for about a month and then I just stopped. There were ten or twelve names still on the list. Luckily they were mostly people who worked with Chris at his old office and I'll never see them again, but I am still ashamed of myself to think of it. Sorry folks! We did very much appreciate the crystal candlesticks or the flatware set or whatever it was you gave us. Really! Thank you! Sorry!

Now I not only have to write thank you notes for myself, I have to write them for my children as well. I thought for a while that writing notes for the kids might be more fun, as I could adopt their personae and say charming funny things in their stead...but eh, they're still thank you notes and I still hate it. And although I know that Miss Manners has lately said that if you thank someone in person, then you don't necessarily have to write them a note as well...I worry that the gift-giver I'm choosing not to write to on the basis of this rule doesn't KNOW the rule and will still think of me as uncouth and ungrateful if I don't send the note, so I end up either sending a note and feeling all put out and resentful about it, or I don't send it but feel guilty for a year anyway. This etiquette stuff, it's just exhausting.

So, if I owe you a thank you note -- I do apologize. And you can think of me as lazy, but please don't think of me as ungrateful. And whatever you think, don't blame my mother, because she tried, she really did.


I Need a Little Christmas, obviously

Yesterday’s post was a bit of a downer, so today I’ll share with you some of my favorite things about Christmas, both past and present.

  • Cinnamon rolls on Christmas morning. My mom made them every year (except that one awful year when she made egg casserole instead (ha – just kidding Mom)) and she’d put them in the oven to warm while we opened presents and it would smell just heavenly. Now, when we stay in NC for Christmas, I make the cinnamon rolls and I have to say, they’re my best “dish.” This year I’m going to try Alton Brown’s recipe.

  • Christmas dresses. We always had something new to wear on Christmas Eve, and up until I was, I think, a junior in high school, that “something” was handmade by my mom. She always sewed us the most gorgeous dresses, and we often all matched (well, not my brother, of course). I loved putting on my new dress and feeling pretty.

  • Christmas Eve services at our church back home. The church was always decorated with poinsettias and lit with candles. My mom would play something special on the organ, and the choir would sing. Then we’d all get to light our own candles and sing “Silent Night.” The “true meaning” of Christmas would always hit me right about then.

  • Chocolate crinkles and my mom’s spritz.

  • Grandma Shaffer’s noodles, which I haven’t had for a very long time. And, now, my mother-in-law’s pierogis – I was a bit suspicious of these the first couple of times I had Christmas over there, but now I love them. Well, except for the sauerkraut ones.

  • Scraps from my mom’s holiday baking. Mom makes everything from scratch. When she makes a pie crust, she takes the scraps and sprinkles cinnamon sugar on them and puts them in the toaster oven, and the resulting, um, “pie crust thingies” are delicious. And when she’d make cinnamon rolls, she’d always give us a little slice of dough before she put them in the pan.

  • My mom’s advent calendar, which she handmade with felt and little tiny sequins and beads. There was a tree on the top half, and 24 pockets on the bottom, each with an ornament inside. It was so much fun to take a “surprise” out of the pocket every night and pin it on the tree (even though it was hard to take turns with my siblings). I have a beautiful advent calendar now myself (which in fact my mom found for me), and Mallory loves it, but it’s not nearly as magical as that old felt and sequin one.

  • Have you noticed how many of these feature my mom and something special she did for us around the holidays? (Or, food?)

  • Decorating the Christmas tree. I received most of my ornaments through the years as gifts from my grandmothers, so it’s always fun to get the ornament boxes down from the attic and unwrap them all and remember who gave me what and when. It’s like opening a treasure chest. And I don’t hang this one up any more because it’s too fragile, but my very favorite ornament is a Dixie cup covered in fabric that my Great-Granddad Baize made for me in 1976, when he was in the nursing home.

  • The thing we do at my mother-in-law’s house before Christmas dinner which I can’t spell or pronounce. It’s a Polish tradition; basically we all get a piece of holy wafer and share it with each other and everyone hugs. It’s very nice.

  • “The Friendly Beasts.” We sang this song in our church Christmas pageants when I was a kid. Garth Brooks has a version of it too. It tears me up every time, especially this verse:
    I, said the dove from the rafters high,
    I cooed him to sleep, that he should not cry.
    We cooed him to sleep, my love and I.
    I, said the dove from the rafters high.

  • Going to Grannie’s house for Christmas Eve. Obviously we haven’t done this for a very long time. I still miss it.

  • Watching my kids celebrate Christmas. The first year Mallory really “got” Santa was after she turned 3…she woke up on Christmas morning and yelled, “It’s Sritmas! I’m going to run and see what he left for me!” She dashed to the top of the stairs and said, “Well, I think I’ll walk downstairs.” That was also the year I was pregnant, and I knew I was going to have a girl because every day, Mallory would go up to this Precious Moments ornament on our tree and say, “Hello, little sister, you look very pretty today.” Last year, she told her music teacher that Phoebe could be the baby Jesus in their pageant. This year, Phoebe is in awe of the Christmas tree – she laughs at it and says, “Pree!” for “pretty!” I know I buy them way more presents than I should, but I just love celebrating with them. I hope when they grow up, their Christmas memories are just as happy as mine are.

That’s much better.


Worse things


Thank you for all your supportive comments yesterday. I guess it is a silly thing to be worked up about. I think what really upset me about it is that I know that IF I could stay home with my kids, I’d be able to keep the diaper dream alive. And this week I’ve just been feeling bad about not being home with them, I think because the new year is approaching and I’m going to have to start working on Fridays again soon. That just makes me sad.

In fact, there’s just a whole list of things, in my mind, that would be better about life in general if I had more time at home with my kids. We’d eat better – we could have real dinners and homemade cookies instead of frozen pizzas and Chips Ahoy. (Although I love me some Chips Ahoy.) The house would not be such a horrible mess I can’t even stand to be in it. We’d read more books together. We could go to the park more often. I could attend all the special events at Mallory’s school. I might even be able to exercise. Maybe Mallory would be less freakin’ clingy. I wouldn’t have to hear about the cute things they do all day from other people because I would be there to see it all myself.

Yeah, I’m feeling a bit down today.

Then again…I have this friend who calls me every day at work, and she always fills me in on Weird News that she comes across. Today she was full of stories about children who were neglected, or abused, or otherwise in bad hands. And it kind of put things in perspective. My kids are healthy and happy and, even when I’m not with them, they are always in the presence of people who love them. So yeah, there are worse things than disposable diapers and working mothers.

I still wish I could stay home. Posted by Picasa


Warning: This Will Be Boring to Everyone Else

I'm feeling a bit disappointed in myself, and here's why: I think I'm going to abandon cloth diapering.

I started using cloth diapers for Mallory when she was 9 months old. She wore disposables to daycare and to my inlaws, but the minute she got home I switched her to a cloth diaper, and that's what we used all evening and overnight and on weekends, until she was almost 3. The idea of cloth diapering may sound daunting, but really, for her, it was easy. It was two extra loads of laundry every week and ten minutes of folding and putting away. It was no problem at all.

I planned to use cloth for Phoebe from the moment she was born. A few minutes after she was born -- well, okay, let's say a few days after, when we got home from the hospital -- I realized there were other things that took priority. Like sleeping. Like feeding her while trying to keep Mallory entertained. After a few weeks, I started with cloth, and it just wasn't as easy this time around. The extra laundry was much harder to deal with now that I had a second child, especially since Phoebe is a "heavy wetter" (as they call it in the cloth-diapering world) and leaked over everything a couple of times a day and every night.

But I stuck with it, more or less. Even when I went back to work, I tried to use cloth during the weekends, at least. But I couldn't use cloth when we went out anywhere, because they were too bulky to fit under Phoebe's clothes. And I never ever found anything that would work for her over night -- I tried one "superabsorbent" diaper but it was so ridiculously bulky that she couldn't even roll over. So it usually ended up that we were only using -- and washing, mind you, in hot water with an extra rinse -- six or eight diapers a week.

Then, this fall, she outgrew the diapers I had (which Mallory had used before her, so we certainly got our money's worth), and I placed an order for new ones, but the company was out of stock, and it was a month or more before I got the package. And the intervening month of not using cloth was kind of nice. And now I'm looking at the brand new diapers and thinking, Do I really want to do this again? Is it really worth it, if she's only wearing a few every week? And the answer I've come up with is, no, not really.

Understand that in normal circumstances I am a huge advocate of cloth. Disposable diapers are horrible for the environment, in every stage of their "lifespan." There's something like one cup of crude oil in every diaper, and their manufacture creates all kinds of waste from the bleaching and the pulping and whatnot, and then they're packaged in more plastic, and trucked all over the country, and then after a few hours of use they're sent to the landfill, little plastic-wrapped bombs of human waste. Nice! And the absorbent "gel" is full of chemicals which hasn't been proven to cause harms to little children, but it would be nice to keep as many chemicals away from children as possible, right? So I think cloth diapering is a wonderful thing.
It's just not working for us right now. And I feel really horrible about that, especially since I've just written that paragraph. Argh. I really can't see the value in using them as infrequently as I do, though. (And Phoebe has started to tell us when she "goes", so could it be that she's going to potty-train early anyway? What a lovely thought.)

As I said, I'm sure no one else cares about this. I just feel bad about going back to disposables when I know cloth can be so much better. Maybe I'll start using reusable grocery bags instead of plastic. Maybe that'll make me feel better.


In Twenty Years I May Feel the Same About this Blog

I’m out of books at my house (meaning, I’ve read them all, I haven’t had time to go to the library, and I can’t justify buying new books for myself two weeks before Christmas), so last night I got into bed with a few of my diaries from high school. As you may know, I published a compilation of my great-grandmother’s diaries, and I’ve often thought in the back of my mind that maybe I should try to do the same for my own. After last night’s reading, I just have to say, No. And also, Gah.

My diaries can be divided into two parts. Part the First was me whining incessantly about how unpopular I was and how much I wanted a boyfriend. Part the Second was me enthusing endlessly over how much I loved the boyfriend I finally got. I love him! I love him so much! I love having a boyfriend! Oh how I love him! We’re going to get maaarried and I love him! Every night, for two years, that’s all I wrote about. Well, then he went off to college and every night I wrote, I miss him! I miss him so much! I can’t stand being without him! I miss him! And I love him!


And it’s not that I don’t believe, now, that I really did love him. I did. He was (still is, I assume) a good guy and I think that without him I would’ve been pretty miserable those last two years of high school. There were a few things I read last night that made me think, “What? He said THAT to me? He did WHAT? I let him get away with THAT?”, but on the whole he was really pretty sweet. I just…outgrew him, I think, when I went away to college. (And I think he was on the verge of outgrowing me, too, he just wasn’t ready to admit it.)

It’s funny to wonder what might have been, though. What if I had gone to the same college as him? (That’s what he wanted me to do, but my mom wouldn’t let me. Ha! Actually, she did advise me against it, but I didn’t want to go to his school anyway.) What if he had been a little more persistent about trying to win me back? What if I’d ended up calling him the time I was driving home from San Antonio and my car broke down on the highway right outside Abilene and I couldn’t get hold of my parents? What if I had married him?

Of course what springs immediately to mind is that if I had married him, I would never have come to North Carolina, and I never would’ve met Chris, and we wouldn’t have our daughters. I never would’ve known what I was missing -- and I know that if I had married him and had his kids, I would’ve loved those kids with all my heart, but they wouldn’t be Mallory and Phoebe. And I can’t imagine a world without those two. And I know that Chris and I are infinitely better suited for each other than First Boyfriend and I were. So I think I’d still be wondering what might have been.

Just Finished Reading (over the past few weeks)

Digging to America by Anne Tyler
I got this book because it deals with international adoption (two couples adopting babies from Korea), which is a topic that’s been on my mind lately because I follow a blog about a woman who just adopted a little girl from China. As it turns out, the adoption and the babies were just kind of a subplot – the book is more about the grandmother of one of the girls. A good book nevertheless, but not one I was wild about. Actually I feel that way about all of the books by Anne Tyler that I’ve read.

The Thirteenth Tale by Diane Setterfield
A fun read. I was kind of rolling my eyes during the first fifty pages or so because it was so pseudo-Gothic and a bit melodramatic, but then I got pulled into the story and ended up liking it quite a bit.

Naked by David Sedaris
Hilarious. And he grew up in Raleigh, so he mentions places I know – North Hills, Crabtree Valley Mall. I love finding familiar places in books. And music too – Amarillo by Morning is one of my very favorite songs, just because it has “Amarillo” in the title. I’m tempted to get the rest of Sedaris’s books and read them right away – he’s that funny. But I think I need to space myself. I made the mistake of reading all of the Jeeves and Wooster stories in a two-week timespan and by the end I was really sick of the Aunt Agathas and the old beans and the Wooster wackiness. Lesson learned: sometimes moderation is best.


Demanding Creatures

The only drawback to being married to a talented artist is that he sets the bar on doodling for the children way, way too high. Right now, for example, the kids’ bathtub is decorated with a gallery of Sesame Street muppets lovingly rendered in bath crayon. Last night I was giving Phoebe a bath and she picked up a crayon and said, “Draw!” “Yes, Phoebe can draw,” I said. She handed the crayon to me and said, a bit imperiously I thought, “Elmo!” So I sketched an Elmo for her on the side of the tub. She examined my effort, then glanced up at the obviously superior Elmo her daddy had drawn the night before. “Elmo!” she said again, pointing to a blank space on the tub, clearly indicating that I should try again.

Yes, my 16-month-old judged my artwork and found it wanting.

So I did try again. And she looked at Elmo2 and then said, hopefully, “Bi Bir?” I told her I was sorry, I was not capable of drawing Big Bird. “Oh,” she said, sadly. I wrote Big Bird’s name on the tub and she pointed to the letters and sang part of the ABC’s. At least I’m good for something.

Later, Mallory announced that she was very excited about going to bed, because Mary and Joseph were going to bring her a treat while she was sleeping. “What’s that?” I asked. “Mary and Joseph are coming tonight to bring me a treat!” she said. “Who told you that?” I asked. “Mama did!” she said, referring to my mother-in-law. “I’ve never heard of Mary and Joseph bringing treats,” I said, but Mallory was steadfast in her belief that this was going to happen.

After she was asleep, I called Claudia. She said that she absolutely had not told Mallory that Mary and Joseph would bring her a treat. She said I should leave a little something on Mallory’s pillow, so that she wouldn’t be disappointed. Yeah, I said, but what if tomorrow she tells me that the Angel Gabriel is going to come and leave her a candy bar? And the next night, that, I don’t know, Noah is going to bring her a pet lion? This is a slope I do not wish to start slipping down. So I took no action. At 4 am, I heard a little voice say, “Mommy? Can I go check and see what Mary and Joseph left for me?” I said no. And at 7:30, a very sad Mallory came into the bathroom and said, “Well, Mary didn’t leave me nothin’.”

I did find out, however, that yesterday Mallory’s class learned about the Annunication, and that her teacher may have used the phrase, “The Angel had a big surprise for Mary and Joseph.” AND, they also learned about St. Nicholas, whose feast day is December 6, and about how he left treats in the shoes of needy children. AND, I gave Mallory a Tooth Fairy pillow for her birthday, so she’s been thinking a lot about the tooth fairy coming. (She said, rather brilliantly I thought, that “The Tooth Fairy must have a magic TV so she can see what kids have loose teeth.”) So I think all these stories must have conflated in her mind to create the great Mary and Joseph myth.

Maybe I will leave a little something in her shoe tonight, in honor of the real St. Nicholas. I’m a little bit of a sucker after all.


The Birthday Report

Mallory woke up on her birthday and said, "How old am I?"

"You're five!" I said.

"Wow! You'd better measure me!" she said.

I did. And she's grown two whole inches she was a measly four years old, so it's a good thing we checked.

Then she discovered her art desk, which she loved:

She’s already spent a few hours at the desk, drawing or practicing letters. What did not occur to me was that providing Mallory easy access to her art supplies would also provide Phoebe easy access to same. All I can say is, thank you to whomever invented washable markers. (And yes, that huge box behind Mallory is her and Phoebe’s Christmas present. We have nowhere else to put it. I told Mallory it was shelves for our kitchen. If she ever makes the connection I’ll just say that it was too heavy for Santa’s sleigh. Or something.)

On our way to the birthday party, Mallory kept pressing her hand up to the car window and shouting, “I’m FIVE!” at passers-by. Phoebe kept chiming in, “Fi!” and trying to give her high-fives.

The birthday girl with a stack of presents.

My girl loves cake...

...but was a bit overcome by smoke from the candles.

The big hit of the day was a package of those foam capsules that “magically” turn into animals when placed in hot water. They were part of the “box o’ fun” that Auntie Mimi gave Mallory. All the girls were fascinated. They abandoned a huge stack of unopened gifts to go watch the foam expand. You never know what will impress kids.

Speaking of which, here is Mallory looking pretty unimpressed with what I thought would be her favorite present, an electronic keyboard. (But you can see Phoebe reaching for it in the background. Phoebe loves it.)

Later, I asked Mallory if she’d had a good birthday. She said yes, but then added, “But I didn’t get my birthday wish.”

“What was that?” I asked.

“That nobody give me any presents, just cake.”

Oh well, can’t win ‘em all.

Yeah...pretend that picture is rotated the right way.

(P.S. Abbey, hope all of your birthday wishes come true!)

And, here’s Mallory’s list of Favorites at 5. She answered the questions herself. On some of these, she was just fibbing, as she calls it, so I put the presumed correct answer in brackets.

Movie: Grease
TV Show: Franklin [The Wonder Pets is more likely]
Song: Elmo You Can Drive My Car
Book: Forgot to ask! Will ask tonight. [I asked...she said, "That book about the apples." I don't know which book she's talking about and I don't think she did either!]
Breakfast: Lego Waffles
Lunch: PB&J
Dinner: Rice potatoes [Huh? I don’t even know what that is. She does love Sesame Shrimp]
Drink: Water
Dessert: Ice Cream
Toy: Elmo
Game: Disney Princess Crowns & Gowns
Friend: Stephanie
Color: Blue
Thing to Do: Play outside
Thing About School: Playing with my friends

I asked her what she thought she'd be like at 5, and she said, "Naughty!" So it could be a rough year for us!