creepy crawlies

The Mama can be a bit klutzy. Okay, fine. I am a bit klutzy. There is nothing conditional about it. And while I am being honest, I should probably omit “a bit” from that second sentence to ensure genuine transparency. So let’s start this post over.

The Mama is klutzy. Not once, but twice last week I hit my head on an open cabinet door whilst putting away the dishes. Alice witnessed the second meeting of my noggin with the corner of the cabinet door. She asked me to lean down. Naive mother who I am, I expected a smooch right on my ouch spot.* It came, but there was hesitation. Before I had a chance to wonder aloud about the delay, Alice clued me in: “I looked before I kissed so there was no bugs where I was going to kiss.”

An ounce of prevention…


* Ouch spot is Alice’s term for any discrete location in which she feels pain.

metaphor monday

“Gargoyles are just flying lions. And they have a different name.”

-Alice Munchkin Kidling

July 24, 2012

if only…

The Kidling is very good at losing things. She is especially good at losing marbles. Specifically, losing marbles under very low-to-the-ground and near-permanent fixtures.

Case in point, the stove.

Yes, last week, Alice lost a marble under the stove. We tried several kitchen tools to no avail. None was quite the right size to retrieve the lost ball of glass. Then Alice had an idea. She pointed to the space under the stove and observed:

“If Clifford’s leg was smaller than that and it could fit and he was real and could come out of the TV, then he could get it out.”

Indeed, Alice. If only…

no, she is not always this sweet

I just want to get that out there right away, because otherwise this post might make you insanely jealous of how sweet my child is when yours kind of sucks a little. So, to answer your question, no. The Kidling most certainly is not always this sweet. But when she is, it sounds like this:

“When you give love to me, I keep it for a few days. I keep it until Christmas, then I give it to all the kids. To every single kid so they all have love in their hearts so they can all be so happy!”

Is that a collective sigh I hear?

a mighty fine conversation

Breakfast. Alice was randomly jibber jabbering away about all sorts of nonsense. Then:

Alice: Mighty white and mighty black. Which one is closer to your color? Mighty white? Or mighty black?

The Mama: Well, my hair is awfully dark so it is closer to mighty black. And my eyes are brown, so they are closer to mighty black.

Alice: What about you?

The Mama: You mean my skin? Well, that’s tough. (I pointed to the black coffee in the white mug that I was conveniently holding right that instant) It is sort of in between. It is more of a light tan color.

Alice: Well, tan is like light brown, so you’re more like mighty black.

Living with The Kidling who knows neither classification nor category is mighty refreshing, no?

the [other] big question

Do you, dear readers, recall a certain awkward conversation that The Kidling and I had back in May? If not, then please (please!) click that link. Remember that I am not responsible for injury or death due to overzealous laughter. Don’t say I didn’t warn you. Last night I was asked another of those questions. This particular inquisition is one that parents of onlies dread. Whilst getting The Kidling out of the bathtub, I told her a story of a friend’s three daughters:

The Mama: Did you know I have a friend whose kids take their own showers all by themselves? They get in, wash up, and get out all by themselves.

Alice: Oh. (pause) Why does she have kids, not kid?

The Mama: What do you mean? Why does she have lots of kids?

Alice: Yeah. Why does your friend have three kids?

The Mama: Because she chose to have lots of kids. Some people choose to have one kid and other people choose to have more.

Alice: Oh. (pause) How come you chose to just get only one kid out of your belly?

The Mama: Well, we thought we had one great kid so we didn’t need any more. It seemed kind of silly when we already had one who is so great.

Alice: Well, you chose the right kid, because it can do cool things!

Yes we did and yes it she can. The Kidling can be hard to argue with.

questions, answers, and silence

I would like to think that I know the answers to all Alice’s wonderings, but I don’t. I don’t really even come close. Thank god for The Google. And sometimes even when I do know the answer, I don’t explain because I am too tired/too crabby/talking to someone else who she has rudely interrupted/in the middle of making dinner and she has asked 37 questions already and I just want it to be quiet for one minute. ONE MINUTE.

Sorry.  All better now.

Here are a few from the last week or so that have left The Mama flabbergasted:

Alice: Mom? Why is that on smoke?



Alice: Mom? How do they get salt out of the sea?



Alice: Mom? Why is milk colder?* Because it comes from cows and cows are warmer.



* Than water. See, we drink tap water and don’t use ice cubes. When The Kidling is really hot and I offer her milk or water, she will often ask which is colder. Last night she decided that didn’t make any sense. And, in the interest of candor, dear readers, I did eventually answer this one. The silence only lasted a moment before I stepped into response mode. But that doesn’t look as funny now, does it?

Baby Kidling week, day 5

If you’ve stuck with me through Baby Kidling week,* thanks. You’ve made it to day 5, thereby earning each and every one of you the title of Best Reader Ever. Today I offer, The Finale.

February 2010, 25 months old

You know how parents are convinced they understand everything their children say? Especially when “they” have a smart little booger-child with mediocre hearing and quirky pronunciation?

Well, one night just after Alice turned two she kept telling me, “No kiss.” Over and over she said it, “No kiss! No kiss!”

“Fine,” I thought. “I won’t kiss you. I didn’t want to kiss you anyway.”

“No kiss!” Alice repeated vehemently.

Now I’m not going to lie. This was starting to hurt. Why was Baby Kidling insisting I stay far, far away when I was making no move toward an embrace of any sort? Then  finally, she changed her tune:

“Want dinner!” she yelled, frustrated.

Um, yeah.

No kiss? Nope. She was saying “Want cheese! Want cheese!” Poor girl just needed a snack…


* Huh? This should catch you up.