Dat at the kids' museum

Sitting

Playdate: Dolls, Bells, Paint

More wood out of nowhere

Jo: I hate it.

Me: You hate what?

Jo: I hate it when the tree cutters cut down trees. I really hate it.

Kids on a Bed, Artist at Work

Is that a glorious birdbath or what?

What in the world?

Big prize to anyone who can figure this out.

Jo said:

We all going to be wood.
I going to be wood.
Daddy going to be wood.
Sam going to be wood.
Billy going to be wood.
My dolls going to be wood.
They can carry us.
They will build us.
I don't want my splinter out.
I don't want my other splinter out.
We're going to be wood.

What in the world does that mean?????
Is this some kind of weird tree-loving poem I'm just not environmentally friendly enough to understand?

Germ Theory

One of the biggest perks about living where we do is it's small enough that we run into friends almost every time we leave the house. Last Friday, we were all tired and sluggish, but still dragged ourselves to Fridays After Five (free live music in the summer)... and we were so glad we did! We ran into ZB, Jo's little friend who adores her, son of my friend Emily - and the two of them ran and danced with abandon.

So, germs. Explaining clean vs. dirty, why swimming in the pool is okay but drinking the pool is not... it's all very complicated and mystifying to a toddler.
"Don't put your hand in my cup," I told her the other day.
"I have germs?" she asked.
"Yep."
"I have PINK germs." Of course. They still gross me out.

She's being so good with Sam (who is sitting up so well these days). He was grabbing at her and pulling her hair, and she asked me why - but then sighed with acceptance, answered herself, in a funny, deadpan voice: "I - am - a -toy." It was hilarious.