Love is a battlefield

Mallory asked, "Phoebe, who do you love better, Mommy or Daddy?"

"Mallory, that's not really a nice question," I said. "Love isn't a contest."

"I don't love Mommy or Daddy the best," Phoebe said.

"You see, that's nice," I said, "you should love everyone the same--"

Phoebe continued, "I love my papa the best."

Oh.

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Merry Christmas to Joey, too!

Scene: After the Christmas pageant. Me: You did great, Mallory, we're proud of you! Mallory: What was your favorite part? Me: Hmm. I liked the "Whatcha Gonna Call That Baby?" song. Chris: I liked that one too. Me: But I also liked "Joy to the World." Mallory: Joey in the world? What's that? Me: No, joy to the world, the song you just sang. Mallory: Oh yeah. Me: That's one of my favorite songs. Phoebe: A favorite song is a song that's your favorite and you like it and you sing. (Pause) Phoebe: And you dance. Mallory, before the show, in front of our haphazardly decorated Christmas tree. Phoebe declined to be photographed. All I was able to photograph of the event itself: Phoebe, objecting to the camera's flash: Now she closes her eyes before I snap every picture. Sigh. But she's cute anyway! And so is Mallory! And their dresses match! We're thinking Arby's: Okay, that's it! Recently read: The Golden Compass and The Subtle Knife . ...

The Golf Course

There was a miniature golf course in my grandparent’s house. There were, in fact, lots of cool-if-kitschy things in my grandparents’ house. There were swinging saloon doors between the kitchen and the master suite. There was a toilet seat made of transparent plastic, with ticket stubs from horse races embedded therein. There was a globe wine bar (pictured!). There was a mounted goat head (the goat was named Bucky) on whose antlers my granddad hung his golf caps. There was a stuffed pheasant whose chest feathers were smooth as silk. There was a kitchen bar of green marbled formica and swively kitchen chairs of red pleather. There was an automatic ice dispenser on the refrigerator, which was a rare and awe-inspiring thing in the 1970’s. There was a mirrored tray holding bejeweled perfume bottles with atomizers in the guest bathroom. There were two huge oil paintings – one of my aunt, with beautifully frosted hair, holding a Pug, one of my older sister as a toddler sitting on a John De...

Little sisters

Mallory was invited for a sleepover tonight; this morning, as she was packing her suitcase, Phoebe came in and said, "Me too!" When Chris found her suitcase, and gently told her that she wasn't invited to the sleepover, she cried for an hour. I think I'll always have a special sort of sympathy for Phoebe, my second child, because I was the second child too*. (And it's odd, because although I have younger siblings as well, I always think of myself as a little sister, or as the younger older sister, if that makes sense. I think that's because Jana, my big sister, was so good at being the oldest, responsible and, uh, authoritarian, and I am, well, fundamentally irresponsible. We all bowed to her! In a good way. I could never live up to that.) I often feel sorry for Phoebe, left behind while Mallory goes to school all day, because I well remember the long, lonely boring days I spent waiting for Jana to come home from school (not counting the days I spent playing i...

Always Remember That

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