a dandelion for Tucker

On the way out the door to dance class this morning, Evie picked a dandelion for her teacher. Obviously, Scott's Lawn Service is having a hard time keeping up with the power of all these spring rains, because we still seem to have an abundance of dandelions and other weeds despite the costly lawn treatments. Eloise decided to follow suit and picked a dandelion herself. Now, Evie's dance class is a built in play-date for Eloise each week: another girl in the class has twin sisters right around Eloise's age, and they have fun playing together while the big sisters dance. As Eloise held her freshly-plucked weed flower, she told me it was for "Abby-and-Anna, no Anna-and-Abby, no..." Clearly, there was a problem. Two friends, and one flower. The obvious solution? No, not pick another dandelion to even things out. Nope. Suddenly, the dandelion was for Tucker, the three-year-old brother of another dance student. As we drove to class, I silently hoped Eloise would just give the flower to Miss Heather (or, Miss FEATHER, as Eloise says) along with Evie. Or--better yet--that she would forget the already-wilting thing in the van. But, of course, she proudly presented it to Tucker as soon as we arrived. I admit, I was a little bit embarrassed, especially when all the other moms were giggling. But when I looked at Eloise, and the sweetness and purity of her kind gesture, my embarrassment faded and was replaced, instead, with gratitude. I was so thankful she had taken off those RED SNOWMAN tights she'd had on earlier...they really clashed with that purple jumper!

an Eloise-ism

"Mom, my stomach is in my cheek because that's his bedroom."

Well, okay!

A bellybutton named Ankle

This morning, Evie said she didn't feel well. Great, I thought, didn't we just get over practically an entire month of sickness?!? The following conversation ensued:

Me: How don't you feel good?

Evie: I just don't feel good.

Me: Like what? What feels bad?

Evie: Mmmm...my tubes.

Me: Your tubes?

Evie: Yeah, my tubes. I think my food went down the wrong tube.

Me: Your food? You haven't had breakfast, silly!

Evie: I know. It was my supper. My supper went down my breakfast tube last night. Now I can't eat breakfast, because my supper is in there.

Me: Hmmm...maybe you could try to eat breakfast. Maybe there is room in the tube.

Evie: No, there's not. I think I'm pretty sick now. So I'm going to have to watch movies today.

Aha.

Our kids don't get to watch movies very often--could you tell? In fact, I remember one night when Evie was three, the stomach flu hit her hard in the middle of the night. I brought her into the bathroom to clean her up, worried that she was going to be traumatized by the experience of waking up to the awful feeling, smell, taste, and sight of vomit. But, nope: she stood in the bathroom smiling, saying excitedly, "Do I get to watch movies? Do I get to eat jello?"! (We don't let them eat sugary treats much, either.) Yep, sickness is a celebration at our house, because we get to watch movies.

Apparently, Evie, at the age of five, already knows how to fake sickness. Fortunately, when I told her there would be no movies today regardless of her "tube" situation, her condition rapidly improved, and she proceeded to eat two big bowls of oatmeal, two pieces of whole wheat toast, a banana, and a small handful of raisins.

Eloise's tummy/tubes seemed to be just fine, although she did ask if I wanted to see her bellybutton. When I declined, she said, "Look at my bellybutton, Mom! Its name is Ankle." A bellybutton named Ankle. How 'bout that?

Don't touch my Diet Coke...

The other day, when Evie spent some time at her Aunt Sisi's house, Eloise had the rare opportunity to play whatever she wanted. She decided to be a schoolteacher for much of the morning. Apparently, part of playing schoolteacher means wearing a pink button that says "It's a Girl" from the hospital where my niece was born...you know, ya gotta accessorize... Anyway, I digress. A little while into her school day, Eloise came to the laundry room to inform me that Thomas and Joanie--my "children"--had to come home because they had touched her Diet Coke. The horror! She watched with smug satisfaction as I scolded both Thomas and Joanie for their soft drink handling offense. Later, both children were invited back to the classroom, although they were forced to stand next to the easel for the remainder of the day. Here is the little schoolteacher. At least her head would have been protected if Thomas or Joanie had decided to, say, throw the Diet Coke at her. Oh, and the Diet Coke was really a flip-straw bottle of water. Now that I've figured out the insert-an-image thing, here's one of Audrey and the new tooth:

The tooth is very new and very small, but it's there. Believe me. She chomped down while eating earlier. It's also very sharp.