Ah, She's a Witty One

Every day, Bean puts together ridiculous amounts of knowledge that add to her understanding of the world. And then she tells (or draws) us about them. These conversations reveal some one-liner gems and pictorial insights that leave us laughing, wondering, and, sometimes, purely in shock. Today gave us several of these moments. Here are the highlights:

Pre-dinner conversation:

Bean is gathering her art supplies. She's got a tablet and some colored pencils in her hand.

Bean: These are my portrait things, Mommy.
Me: Oh yeah?
Bean: Yeah, these are for drawing portraits.
Me: Do you know what a portrait is?
Bean: No.
(I explain.)
Me: Can you draw my portrait?
Bean: Oh, yeah. Yeah, sure. Let me see if I can find a page here....

Pre-dinner doodles:

Bean: This is your belly button...And Here's your mouth. I think you're smiling. Yeah, you have a smiley face......

Sorry no, that's a frog.

Me: Um.....Can I have eyes?
Bean: Oh, yeah sure.
      And here's a nose. (giggles to herself) It looks like a hot air balloon. It's a hot air balloon nose!
Me: I have a hot air balloon nose?
Bean: Yeah...

Dinner Conversation:

B has gravy left on his plate so he goes to get a piece of bread to mop it up. After peeking at the Bean through a hole in the bread, he offers her half. 

B: Would you like some?

Bean: No. Definitely not.

(B and I raise eyebrows at each other.)

B: OK.....

................

Bean: Can I have some bread?

(Laughter)

Bean: There's no need for laughing!

More Dinner Conversation:

Bean: Boy, you're really tanked up, Mommy!

Me: .......

Three!

Oh, my! You're three today! What an amazing thing! Three is a birthday you've looked forward to for quite awhile. It was the milestone you referenced for when you'd be able to go to school...

And here we are! You're doing it! You started school last week and you're learning so much already. I can tell that you really like it there. You're making friends and every day you share something about your day that was new and exciting.

This has been a big year for you in so many ways, but the biggest deal by far is that you became a big sister. We began waiting for your brother, who we all call Little Mister, to arrive soon after you turned two! It was a joy to wait for him along with you - you called me your "Big Momma" and you were very proud to help prepare our home for his arrival. Since he arrived in June, you have loved Little Mister. You take care of him and look out for him, making sure that someone comes to help when he cries. Every night you kiss and hug him goodnight, and you've started telling me what you think he's saying when he "squeaks."

You ARE a tremendous helper, for Momma and Dad, your grandparents, and to people you don't even know. I am so proud of how much you care for others. You greet people as we meet them and often stop to offer help to those who might be having trouble carrying something or setting off to do a chore like setting the table. Nearly every day you ask me, "Can I help?" with something.

doing laundry

Your favorite chores are the laundry, vacuuming, making your bed, and putting the soap in the dishwasher. Some day you'll probably read this and roll your eyes, but you even MADE ME scrub my bath tub one morning because it was getting "too dusty."

making the bed

My favorite thing about this past year - and hopefully your favorite too - is that we've had so many adventures together! You are keen on discovering your world, asking me every morning, "Where are we going today?" Since we've had a lot of time together after Little Mister was born, we've explored parks, made friends, danced in fountains, gone swimming in pools, creeks, and lakes, and met all sorts of animals at farms and fairs. Your eyes sparkle when we see new things, and you're always noticing the little stuff of life. Like the day we took a walk and you noted the yellow butterfly that was flying alongside us the entire way, and the Queen Anne's Lace that grows in the vacant lots in our neighborhood - it's one of your favorite flowers.

Every Saturday is "family day," and you hold that sacred. I live for the moments when you sit between me and Dad, put your arms around us, and say,"I love my family." In these moments, you effervesce with an infectious joy. Your Dad and I love you so very much and our family would not be complete without you. 

Happy birthday, Little One. May your joy overflow. 

First Day

Last Wednesday was the Bean's first day of preschool. I've started and stopped this post several times because I get writer's block as soon as I type that first sentence. What do I say next? This milestone has me swirling in emotion - okay, more emotion. My thoughts jump from sadness at the passing of babyhood to gratitude for the crazy fabulous summer I've been able to share with both of my children, to disbelief at the swift movement of time, to the realization that this is just the first of many baby steps out of the nest, to intense pride that my little girl is ready for and excited about school. And all of these thoughts have the capability to pass within the span of three minutes' time and leave me crying and smiling all at once. Motherhood does indeed permanently open us up and leave us intensely vulnerable, as our hearts wander around outside ourselves through our children. It is a beautiful, frightening, wonderful thing.

The build-up to last Wednesday had been long. Not as long as the build-up to Little Mister's birth (thank goodness!), but long enough. The Bean has wanted to go to school for quite awhile. She's watched the kids there playing on the playground and confidently told us, "I want to go there some day!" She's also checked of many milestones in the getting there. Getting dressed? Check! Going to the potty? Check! Sharing? Mostly check! And as the actual start of school grew closer there were visits to the classroom, back-to-school shopping trips, and a whole host of play dates and field trips that let us squeeze out every last delicious bit of summer that we could.

Yet when the day came - it actually  came - I think we were all just a little bit in shock and definitely anxious. The night before, Bean could hardly stay in bed and on one of many trips  I took upstairs to help her get back to bed, we had this conversation: "Mommy, WHEN am I going to school?" "Tomorrow," I replied. "Oh...," her voice quiet. I realized that prior to that point, school was not yet real to her. The change coming was incomprehensible. It was an exciting idea the floated somewhere in the timeless world of the toddler mind. But the time had come, and it was real, and somehow we all still went to sleep that night.

In the morning, B and I put on our most enthusiastic faces and excitedly helped the Bean get ready. I had set out her clothes the night before and noticed that she had already made her own editorial adjustments to the outfit (note the socks). Bean was ready and excited. She left the house smiling and made a smooth transition into her classroom when B dropped her off.

Thus began one of the longer days of my life. I could not WAIT for my little girl to come home and tell me her stories. (I also prayed that it would all go OK and that she would want to go back again!) And I missed her....

And I made her dinner. And I waited for her to walk in the door. I felt like a kid at Christmas time, filled with anticipation about what she would tell. At 5:30 she and B walked in the door, both happy (phew!).

"How was your day?" I asked.
"I have decided that I'm not going to tell you and Little Mister about my day," she replied.

OH boy, I thought. So much for Christmas. During the course of the evening, I learned that lunch was "not too bad," and they sang "Wheels on the Bus," and that the Bean wanted to go back, even if only to rescue her precious buddy (a stuffed bunny named Paddy) who she no longer wanted to "live" at school. ("We need to talk about this as a family," she said.)

So there I had it. Right before my eyes, my little girl was defining her own world - making sense of and delineating an experience and place that belongs to her. From now on, she gets to choose how to spend her day and what her story will be. And when she gets over the fact that her world has been rocked (again) and school starts to feel normal, and her confidence grows, I cannot WAIT to hear all about it. Until then, I will have to be satisfied with the knowledge that school makes good lunch, the playground is "good," and the Bean seems to be excited to go back.