Category: General Family News

Mara and Micah have needed PJs all summer. (But do you really need PJs? . . . We’ve been sending them to bed in random t-shirts and shorts.)

This past week, however, both kids’ pajamas suddenly multiplied! At Carters clearance sale, I found Micah a 5-pack of onesies (Fall 2009 print) for $3.36! The onesies matched with some of his random PJ shorts. I also found him a 3-piece pajama set with a dog playing a guitar, which is Micah’s absolute favorite, since he is into all things guitar these days! And finally, a two-piece set with a smiling bulldozer on the shirt, and the pants are a print with bulldozers, backhoes and dump trucks. He loves backhoes lately too (“Cack-hoe! Cack-hoe!” he says)–so both sets were a big hit with him!–and with me too, since each set was about $2.25. So for about $8, he is set on PJs, and has some that he actually loves to wear!

I didn’t find girls’ PJs at Carters, within my “price range.” However, on Saturday at the clothing swap, I found a couple pairs of PJ pants and one shirt in Mara’s size.

Her favorite, of course, are the bright pink silky pair of Carters pants with cherries on them!

She came in Micah’s room so hyped about her pants. “LOOK, Micah!” she exclaimed. “I got new PJs!”

Mara can be so very in-her-own-world, rejoicing about her own things, but clueless about how others might be feeling or thinking.

So I asked her: “Mara, did you see? Micah got new PJs too.”

“Hm,” she observed tersely. “They’rrrre . . . pretty cool,” she conceded reluctantly. Then, the return of the exuberance: “But, LOOK, Micah! See mine?! They’re pink! And shiny!”

Micah shook his head, unimpressed. “Noooo,” he said. “No cack-hoes.”

For a little background, you must know that Mara was a flower girl in Aunt Mary’s wedding in May. Unfortunately, Mara did not last through the reception. She was completely exhausted and had to go home for a nap before the cake cutting and the dance. Missing those two events was a big disappointment in her three-year-old life.

Last Saturday one of our neighbors’ daughters was getting married, so there was an antique car and a Trolley Works’ trolley sitting out front of our house, waiting to transport the bridal party to the church.

Mara, Micah and I sat on the steps like most of the neighbors on our block, waiting for the bridal party to appear.

We cheered as the father of the bride appeared. Then bridesmaids. A flower girl. . . Mara wanted to go tell the girl that she had been a flower girl too.

They all climbed aboard the trolley. Then the bride appeared, a few photos were snapped, and she was hustled into the antique car and headed off to the chapel.

“Alright,” I said to the kids, as the excitement died down. “Let’s go back inside.”

Mara began to tear up.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“I really, really wanted to see the cake!” she said mournfully.

I was puzzled. Did she think the cake was going to come out next, after the bride?

It seems, in her mind, there are few things more meaningful in life than wedding cake.

Tonight she was in the bath, and she called to me.

“Surprise, surprise!” she exclaimed. “My legs are growing longer! It’s juuuust what I wished for!”

“Why did you wish for longer legs?”

“Because I want to be BIG,” she said, lifting her arms triumphantly over her head, “so I can get married!”

“Why do you want to get married?”

She sighed wistfully. “I really, really want to see one of those bee-you-tiful cakes. . .” she paused,with dramatic effect. Slowly shaking her head, she added: “I don’t really care what I marry. . . I just wonder: what kind of cake will I have? ”

Her eyes lit up. “Maaaaybe it will be purple stripes—with flowers!”

We slice the kids’ french toast with the pizza cutter, so usually they have about 20 little squares of french toast on their plates.

On Saturday morning, we looked over to see Mara making “letters” with her french toast. First, she made an “L.” Then she made an “F” and an “I.” Ate a few squares. And together we made a “A,” then an “H.” Ate a few more squares. And finally she made a “B” and then a “K.”

I’m sitting here typing, suddenly realizing that some will say, instead promoting of educational eating, we should be teaching her not to play with her food! (They have a point.) But it was still fun to see her little mind working, designing those letters with the squares she had.

Who says you can’t practice your ABCs over french toast?

Breakfast with my 2-year-old son and 3-year-old daughter

Micah sits in his high chair, innocently eating his piece of toast–on a fork.

Mara: “Micah, you don’t use your fork with your toast. Your fork is for your egg.”

——–

Micah: “Hee-HONK! Hee-HONK!”

Mara: “Micah, it’s Hee-haw, not ‘Hee-Honk.’ There’s no ‘honk.'”

Nothin’ gets past big sister!

——–

Our three-year-old continues to ask deeper questions.

For instance she asked: “How do they make bacon for the stores?”

Me: “Bacon comes from a pig.”

Mara has a look that she gives me that says ‘I’m-so-confident-that’s-not-true-that-I’m-not-even-going-to-react-to-that-one.’

She gave me that look. And asked again, “No–how do they really make bacon?”

I told her it’s true. They kill the pigs and cut up the meat and take it to the store.

Still not fully convinced, she requested: “Show me a picture of the pig getting killed.”

I did. (This is the age of the internet.)

That pretty much ruined her breakfast.

Yes, of course, it’s peanut butter and jelly. I try to make the meal a little more healthy by adding in baby carrots, raisins/grapes, and yogurt.

While Micah got out plates, Mara carried the jars of peanut butter and jelly to the table for me. “I want peanut butter and jelly to get married, and this is their marriage-ment today!” she declared.

“Look!” Mara exclaimed, holding the jars together. “They’re kissing! ”