Nashville Star

Monkey likes to dance.

And damn, if she doesn't do the best white man's overbite I have ever seen!

Almost makes me want to buy a videorecorder, so that I can torture her by showing home videos to her dates 16 years in the future....or just provide hours of entertainment to her inebriated friends. (kind of like the time we were in the basement of Splude's parents' house, and found the slide reel full of shots of Splude in her rhythmic gymnastic stage of life. heh. and no, I wasn't the one that started that - I blame Freak. call me and yell at me if you want for that, baby, but you KNOW you found those slides!)

Ahem. Back to Monkey.

I find the dancing irresitable. Except there is one wee problem. Monkey likes to get her freak on to.......country music.

Oh. My. Bleeding. Ears.

Dad put the "Americana" channel on (channel 647 on Time Warner), and she danced!! And danced! And spun, and giggled, and danced!

Oy. Too bad Auntie L and Uncle J moved from Austin, TX. We could have blamed it on them.

The dreaded stethoscope

Monkey's recent visit to the pediatrician did not go well.

Monkey was ok at first. Our nurse was kind, with a gentle presence, someone I'd trust to treat my child. But then she measured Monkey's head with a small measuring tape....which sent Monkey into paroxysms of fear. We had crying, shrieking, hyperventilation, trembling, and attempts to escape the nurse by climbing up my body and over my head.

So strange! Oh wait - what I had failed to notice (um, yeah, BAD move mom....) was that the nurse had a stethoscope slung around the back of her neck. So it was right in Monkey's face when the nurse tried to measure her head.

It went downhill from there. And then it got worse. The doctor came in... and actually had to listen to Monkey's chest with the infernal stethoscope. I was rendered partially deaf in my left ear, due to close proximity to Monkey's mouth and the screams emitted therein. Ouch.

Scrapes on my belly from Monkey trying to climb over my head? Check.
Ringing in the ears? Check.
Incredible sadness that I can't protect Monkey from an irrational fear? Check.
Embarrasing mom moment? Erm, check.

See, I felt compelled to state that Monkey is "normally a charming child" to a young intern shadowing our doctor. Like.. she....cares........

Billabehuh

I got to laugh out loud, heartily, twice this morning.

First, I went in to grab Monkey when she moved from saying "hi," and clicking the light on and off in her room, into that keening cry that says retrieve me and feed me NOW or I'll cry so hard the paint will peel off the walls.

As I walked through the door, she popped up onto her feet to say "hi" and STILL HAD PONYTAILS in! She looked like Boo, from the Pixar flic Monsters, Inc. It made me laugh outloud, I was so startled at this giggling, goggling daughter of mine with her hair all messed up! (Nana babysat last night, and, well, she raised boys....)

An added bonus? After I took the ponytail holders out and brushed her hair, I realized I could leave the top bow in - she went to school that way! Ta dah. 5 minutes saved, right there. Awesome.

Second cause for glee??? Monkey said bellybutton this morning!!

I was kneeling on the floor, she was in the glider (aka the Big Girl Chair) and I was wrangling her into her outfit for the day. Once I peeled off her new footed jammies (compliments of Jason, Lauri and Emma who gave Dad a gift certificate to Century 21 - thanks guys!), she was clothed simply in her diaper. She reached down, peeled back the top of the diaper that was obscuring her belly button, pointed to her bellybutton and said....billabehuh!!!

Ok, so we need to work on enunciation.

But when Dad came into the room, she said "billabehuh" and pointed at his midriff, demanding an on the spot belly button inspection. Dad complied, of course - belly button patrol is an important part of each day in our household. Good times.

Update on "Family Planning"

Yes, so the post below? In case you were wondering? No. Nope. Nada. We have nothing to announce to the family. No bun in the oven, no babybump, nothing...as in not trying. I was merely exasperated that the questions presume an answer. You know, the old saw about "when did you stop beating your wife"...

Family Planning

Each day, when I pick up Monkey from school, I get a green sheet of paper with a report of her day.

Vital statistics are reported:

• number of diaper changes (and of which variety)
• snacks consumed
• lunch report
• checkboxes next to activities in which she engaged (conversation with teacher, listening to directions, wiping own nose, etc.)
• So on and so forth...

But the bottom of the green sheet (because she's in the green room, bien sur!) is my favorite part. That is where the teacher writes a short, free form description of Monkey's day.

Yesterday the report noted that Monkey and Christina (another little girl in the green room) played with a baby doll, and pretended to put the baby down for a nap. Awesome - Monkey is engaging in imaginary activities! She is creative! She is modeling the behavior she sees! (note to self, never pick nose or undies out of butt....Monkey is watching. heh)

I read the report while still at the school, and commented on how she was putting the "baby" to bed.

And you know what BOTH teachers said to me? "She's getting ready for her little brother or sister!"

Um, when did I invite you two into my bedroom? Just saying.