Hair Straight Down Her Back

During her Monday night bath, Mara asked, “Can you make my hair straight down my back, so I can play with The Boys?”

“The boys?” I repeated. “What boys?”

“With Tinkerbell and Peter Pan!” she exclaimed.

“Oh . . . the Lost Boys?”

“Yes!”

I couldn’t help wondering:  Is it Wendy? Tiger Lilly? The mermaids in the lagoon? Who has “hair straight down her back” and caught Mara’s attention?

I poured water on my daughter’s otherwise-spring-loaded, curly hair, and she beamed a huge smile. “Now I can play with the boys!” she said, with her head tilted back to make her hair seem as long as possible.

Occasionally (while playing with the imaginary Lost Boys), Mara’s hair would dry a little bit and start riding up on her shoulders, and she would say, “Uh-oh! My hair isn’t straight down my back! I can’t play with the Boys, until you make it straight down my back.”

She has a real aversion to curly hair. When I comb her hair, she will say, “Don’t make my hair curly, Mommy! Just make it straight down my back.”

And I have to explain: “God made your hair curly, sweetheart.”

———

Speaking of hair, I was drying my hair before home group on Sunday morning. When I finished, Mara ran over and gave me a big hug. “Your hair looks nice, Mom!” she exclaimed, ever-so-genuinely.

I love my sweet little girl!

Dreams Can Come True

The Phillies won again tonight–clinching the NL East Division championship.

But at bedtime, Mara asked me, “Do you remember on Clifford they said ‘games can’t come through’?”

“‘Dreams can come true,’ Mara,” I corrected. “They said, ‘Dreams can come true.'”

“No, games! Games. Can’t. Come. Through,” she repeated, emphasizing each word.

It took me back to my childhood, to a time when my sister and I argued with my Mom about a kids’ Bible song on a cassette from grandma. The song mentioned the “castle of my heart,” but Mary and I insisted the kids were singing about the “yestle” of their hearts.

Mom got out the dictionary and had us look up ‘yestle’ and tell her what it meant. Being the very logical child that I was, I didn’t accept the argument that the word’s mere exclusion from the dictionary proved its non-existence.

“Well, they didn’t put it in there,” I told my mom in conclusion.

I knew I would lose this battle with my daughter, so I quit arguing with her.

Okay, Mara. Games can’t come through. Goodnight, Sweetheart.

And go Phillies.

Dreams can come true!

Mom Moments at the Grocery Store . . . and At Home

Last week I found myself once again in the grocery store with two toddlers.

Honestly, it is getting MUCH better! Micah is learning that he has to stay in the shopping cart without fussing (and no, he cannot stand up in the seat!), and Mara rides (or walks beside me) without incident most of the time. In the grocery store parking lot, Mara’s eyes are fixed on the shopping cart selection, hoping against hope that a “little blue car” (with two steering wheels–one for her, one for Micah) will be available.

Well, on this particular day, we did find a cart, but being in the inner-city, someone had removed both steering wheels, rendering the cars, in Mara’s mind, useless.

An elderly man walked by and smiled at the kids. “Are you driving?” he asked cheerfully.

With a doleful expression, Mara shook her head. “Nooo. It doesn’t have a steering wheel.”

Soon enough she cheered up though, when I told her the other option was to ride in a regular shopping cart.

She then began alternately shouting “Prepare to DIE!!!” and loudly singing “YOU are ALWAYS with me, JESUS! Where can I GOOOOOO? Where can I HIIIIIDE?” (from Sovereign Grace’s Awesome God CD).

We made it through my list without incident. Although it was almost noon, so the kids were getting hungrier by the minute.

As I bagged the groceries in the checkout line and tried to watch the cashier ring up each item, Micah kept reaching for everything I put in the back of the shopping cart.

He reached for bananas. He reached for grapes. Ginger snaps.

And suddenly I turned around to see my 16-month-old son sitting there in the shopping cart, holding a pork chop! It happened in just an instant, while my back was turned. Apparently he had reached into the bag behind him, clawed through the cellophane wrap and pulled out the raw meat!

It’s moments like these when you want to grab the raw pork chop out of your son’s hands, look around the store and exclaim, ‘Has anybody seen his mother?!’

People around us were laughing–and, quite frankly, I was surprised how quickly a small child could capture the attention of several checkout lines without making a sound. A Shoprite employee grabbed the meat and offered to re-wrap the remaining portion. Another brought me paper towels doused in hand sanitizer to wipe Micah’s hands.

The cashier said, “I think he’s hungry.”

And as I was leaving, a man a few lines down called out, “Take that boy home and FEED him!”

———-

As if I didn’t feel sufficiently inept to be a stay-at-home mom after the grocery store episode . . . I dropped the bag holding two dozen eggs on the floor as soon as I got home.

And the casserole that was supposed to bake at 350 for an hour? . . . Somehow it baked at 500 for the first 45 minutes . . . ??

Wow . . . what a day!

Doing Church

From the dining room, I could see Mara standing motionless holding–of all things–one of the dog bones!

“What are you doing, Mara?” I called to her.

“I’m doing church!” she exclaimed.

And I knew exactly what she was doing. Every week, we have communion. Someone at the front of the church holds the bread, and we all file past them, pulling off a piece of bread and dipping it in the cup.

Mara was pretending to hold the bread for communion.

I thought it was pretty funny, so I took her picture. After which, she said, “Can I see?”

DoingChurch1 047

She took one look at her picture and said, “Take it again.”

Instantly, she lowered her head and looked ever so solemnly and the “bread.” (Quite frankly this pose looks much more like someone actually serving communion!) I guess she realized she didn’t have the proper stance in the first picture!

DoingChurch2 048

This girl cracks me up!

Special Treats

We were all downstairs when Mara announced: “I’m going to go upstairs and go potty all by myself.”

She walked up three steps before turning around. She looked down at me with the most serious expression a 2-year-old can muster and sternly said: “Don’t get into trouble, Mommy.”

She paused for an extra-long glare before continuing up the stairs.

Do I say that?

——

After Mara did #2, she exclaimed with intense enthusiasm: “I’m going to get a lollipop! Because I’m so proud of myself!”

While we’re on the topic of “treats” for going potty, I should mention: Never buy “special treats” that tempt you or your husband.

Last week we needed to restock our supply, so I let Mara choose between M&Ms and Reesee’s Pieces at WalMart this week.

Normally she gets one M&M for going #1. This motivates her. And Daniel and I could care less about a jar of M&Ms on the counter.

But while the bag of Reesee’s Pieces was 17 cents cheaper than the same size bag of M&Ms, we are not coming out ahead. I should have paid the extra 17 cents. A bag of M&Ms will last indefinitely around here, with only one child potty-trained.

And at this rate, we’re going to be out of Reesee’s Pieces by the end of the week.