liberace

Alice Munchkin Kidling, typically seen holding a stick and digging in the dirt, rocks the sequin/ ruffle/big shades/striped leggings/rabbit helmet look. Now that’s versatile. Also? She’s a total bad ass.

on canine monikers

This weekend we were talking about… absolutely nothing that relates to Alice’s words that I will recount in this blog post. As such, I will not even try to put it in context.

Alice: Hey Dad, can I tell you something that’s yucky?

The Dada: Umm, okay?

Alice: Ella wanted to name her dog Poo Poo. That’s short for Poop. And I just… didn’t want to hear about it.

A few things, Alice:

First, we are not consulting Ella if we get a puppy. 

Second, Poo Poo is not short for Poop. It is long for Poop.

Third, why are we talking about this?

Fourth, what about our beautiful drive in the woods and our pleasant conversation made you think about this? Seriously.

Fifth and finally, The Mama and The Dada don’t want to hear about it either.

on dessert

“It’s called rainbow sherbet because it has sherbet and rainbows!”

-Alice Munchkin Kidling

May 25, 2012

those dastardly snuvs

The Munchkin Kidling family spends a lot of time in our garden. We bought a home a few years ago with a glorious flower garden, in which I:

• Year One: reveled in its beauty
• Year Two: freaked out at the amount of work and let the whole darned thing become overtaken by weeds
• Year Three: worked my tail off to divide, weed, and mulch, divide, weed, and mulch…
• Year Four (present): revel in its beauty whilst periodically dividing, weeding, and mulching.

Now that The Kidling is four, she helps out now and then. I solicit her help with planting vegetables, transplanting perennials, occasional weeding, and transporting worms to the safety of our vegetable garden. And, of course, disposal of those dastardly snuvs.

What is a snuv? Quite simply, a snuv is a grub. Also, one of the few words that it pains me to tell Alice the proper word for, as I genuinely prefer her neologism. Speaking of neologisms, I do believe ‘snuv’ belongs in The Dictionary. Don’t you agree?

Snuv: noun. Insect larva. Syn. Grub. Ant. Anything on earth deserving of mercy.

Gratuitous inclusion of one of my favorite photos ever: The Mama and The Kidling in the garden, circa 2009, back when her vocabulary included fewer than one billion words and she did not ask me questions to which I do not know the answer. Very nearly prehistory.

*this* much

“I love you so much that I am going to swing you wildly into the air and hope that those squeals represent joy, rather than abject terror.” Okay, so maybe that isn’t an exact quote…

We recently read Guess How Much I Love You—a sweet story about a young rabbit and his father—for the first time in a very long time. As such, The Kidling has been in a contest with herself to make the biggest “I love you” statement possible. This has included inquiries of the relative distance from Earth of the sun and our moon, questions about what exactly a galaxy is, and a lot of statements that end in “… and back.” It is charming, if exhausting.

Thursday morning’s stretch, however, was my favorite:

“I love you to all of the dirt in our city. And in the trees? How much is that? And around the moon and in the stars and around the street. I love you that much. I love you both that much. How cool is that?!”

Honestly Alice, I can think of nothing cooler.

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* The former-almost-lawyer in me wants you to know this sweet (if dangerous) image came from this blog that a student named Janet made for a class on children’s literature. Hrumph. I wish I had taken a class on children’s literature. Also, I’m going to take a wild guess and say that the copyright belongs to Anita Jeram. Dontchathink?

nap time, or (anything but) nap time

Scene: Nap time. The Kidling has been up several times in an attempt to do anything except fall asleep. Minutes pass. The Mama assumes all is safe. Then, she hears the sound of footsteps on the stairs. Moments later, Alice bursts into the office. With a naked bottom.

The Mama: (trying desperately to hide a smile) Alice, what’s going on?

Alice: Ummm…

The Mama: Where are your pants?

Alice: I don’t know.

The Mama: Really?

Alice: Yes.

The Mama: You really don’t know where your pants are?

Alice: No.

The Mama: Are you sure?

Alice: Yes.

The Mama: Alice, I think you know where your pants are.

Alice: No. Really. I don’t.

The Mama: Don’t you know where your pants are?

Alice: Really. No.

The Mama: Then who took your pants?

Alice: I don’t know!

The Mama: I think your pants are in the bathroom. I think you took them off to go potty and didn’t put them back on. Right?

Alice: No.

The Mama: (in a warning tone) Alice?

Alice: (silence)

The Mama: I want you to go upstairs, put your pants back on, and go to sleep.

Alice: Can I go potty first?

The Mama: (thinks: Are you freaking kidding me? You haven’t even used the toilet yet? You got out of bed, went into the bathroom, took your pants and underwear off, came downstairs and started this charade before you even peed!?!?!?!)  Yes.

Tell the world!

“Every once in a while I have a booger for a snack.”

-Alice Munchkin Kidling

May 4, 2012

on boogers

This isn’t my first post about boogers (see here, here, and here ) and I’m sure it won’t be the last…

While driving on a recent afternoon, I looked in my rearview mirror to see my little munchkin munchin’ on a booger. Like any good mama would, I told her to stop immediately. So what did Alice do? She took it out of her mouth and attempted to hand it to me.

Don’t ever say my life isn’t glamorous.

I told Alice “no thank you” but not for the reason you might assume. Oh no, I told her I was too busy driving to take it right then. As if there is ever a good time to take a four-year-old’s slobbery booger. Remember that bit? About my glamorous life? No? Neither do I. Because it just isn’t true.

Eventually traffic calmed enough for me to reach back and take the booger. Really. Then I rounded a corner and had to hold it there on my hand until I could safely dispose of it. This, of course, got Alice to thinking. Always the optimist, Alice noted, “It’s a good thing it’s a sticky booger because that way it will stick on to your hand until you are ready.”

There is no such thing as ready, Alice. Not for that.