Aunt Kiki

Poor Aunt Kiki from Texas found Virginia cold. Still, we had a lovely, if short, weekend with her.

I look like a crazy person.

Here's a couple other pics she took...

Princess Josephine

We have, so far, kept our child sort of far away from the Princess cult. Still, it's difficult to determine what role models are really appropriate. I'm not sure what idolizing Miss Piggy will bring, but I can fairly say that at least she (literally) overpowers her object of affection (poor Kermie) and Dora, despite the weakness of the books/movies, is an active adventurer - unlike the primping princesses who do nothing but glam it up.

Still, Piggy and Dora are both pink, and so our daughter likes to be Pink, and she loves the princesses when she sees them. Last night, I was woken again at 4 am because Jo had lost one of her pink shoes that she was sleeping in, and could not return to dreamland without that missing shoe. I helped. I understand. It's hard to lose things in the middle of the night.

In other Jo news, she also performed for us last night. She did some tap dancing (stomping) and pretended to be a mermaid. She really can crank up the charisma when she wants! She made some cakes out of drums and blankets decorated with candles (bells) and sang happy birthday. Her imagination is blossoming! I almost hate to get her any play food or toys, because she does so well inventing things out of other things.

But we're not so good on the sharing front yet. We had missed a few advent calendar chocolate window openings, so we caught up last night. When we got to the third chocolate, I said to Jo, "Can mama have one? Can you share with mama?"
"No."
"Come on, Jo. Share. Save one for Daddy. Share with Daddy!"
"No," she said, popping the chocolate in her mouth. "Share with JO."

So I've lost the battle. I won't give up on the war. Promise.

It's (not a pink, though) Christmas!

1 - Not sure why, but while daddy and i strapping the tree to the top of the car, josephine burst into tears and sobbed all the way home. The rope was scary?

2 - However, she was all delight that we had brought "Christmas - home!" and danced around, enchanted, as we struggled to make the darn thing stay vertical, and then untangled the nest of lights

3 - Obviously, the lesson of Christmas for a two year old is "Wait." (not Peace or Giving or Love or anything else -just Wait.) Because she is not so great at not opening all the windows on the advent calendar, and already tore into one of the presents under the tree

4 - At one point, she did look up at the multicolored tree and request that we have a Pink Christmas... maybe next year?

5 - First thing out of her mouth this morning: "Angel - top - tree!"

(FYI, even though she is speaking in more and more complete 3, 4, and even 5 word sentences (the other day out came a clear "Put it in there"), mostly her communications sound like robotic blurts...

6 - For the My Child is Brilliant File: On the floor of the store last night (buying rope for the traumatic tree-tying), Josephine spotted a scrap of cardboard and declared it "Six!" It was, indeed, in the shape -unintentionally so - of a six, if you were using your imagination. How in the world did she see that? How does she know that number?

7 - In the Your Turn to Burn, Mommy File: following my post yesterday about "Old Daddy" - an older, angular-looking woman in glasses was on the TV last night - we were watching the city council meeting - and Josephine said, "That Mommy?" "No, I'm right here." "OH. Oh. OLD Mommy." Not to insult the woman but - I wasn't too thrilled... Great. Just great.

Pink Shoes (size 7)

She tried to go to sleep with them on.

Then she tried to sleep with them in her arms.

At four a.m., I woke up to her tap dancing in the hallway in them.

Then, this morning, as Daddy was getting her ready for daycare, she wanted to wear them. Daddy said: "Not now, you're too young - you can wear them when you're older."

To which she replied: "I older. I SIX."

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Jo and I were walking from church, and she saw an older, balding man ahead of us on the street.
"That Daddy?" she asked.
"No, that's not Daddy," I said. "Daddy's at home, and Daddy's much cuter."
"Oh," she said. "That OLD Daddy."