Look what I found! An unpublished draft! From this time last year (5.29.2014). Beats the hell out of writing something new. Gift with purchase? It is seasonally accurate. BAM.


The Kidling is sick. Before you take pity, Dear Readers, we are talking about a different kind of illness.

School sick.

The Kidling had a rough re-entry into school after the long weekend of fun and activity. She spent several days with one set of grandparents, then got to spend an afternoon and evening with another grandma.

Lucky booger.

The Kidling: I’m school sick!
Natalie: What do you mean, Kidling?
The Kidling: I’m sick of working, I’m sick of learning, and I’m sick of talking about reading!

Someone is over this school year.

anatomically (in)correct

“Boys have buttcracks. Girls have butts.”

– The Kidling
August 20, 2014

The Kidling on summer reading program bribes

“. . . and if you fill in all of the bubbles first, you get a Kindle of Fire!”

-The Kidling
July 16, 2014


On the drive home from a fun-filled, three-hour long pool party, The Kidling looked down at her toes and declared, “I don’t like wrinkles. Wrinkles are not my specialty.”

That’s right, Kidling. They are mine.

vegetable kings and protein princes

“Mom, what can I have for snack?” The Kidling inquired at bedtime, every child’s favorite time to realize her need for sustenance. “I want yogurt. And cheese!”

“No, Sweetie you can’t have them both. They are in the same food group.”

“They are?” she asked. “Oh yeah!” she quickly recalled, “Dairy Queen.”

kidling compliments

Those of you who read kidlingville regularly (all four of you) know that The Kidling has been working through some concerns lately. It turns out The Mama was right to be worried about kindergarten and the myriad changes it brings.

Now that I have gratuitously linked to my most recent angsty blogposts, I shall continue.

The Dada and I have been asking careful questions after school lately in order to get as much information as we can about The Kidling’s day without triggering a pity party. As anyone who has regular contact with six-year-olds knows, pity parties are second only to birthday parties in popularity.

So we tread lightly.

This evening yielded some positive information. It turns out The Kidling and her nemesis played together today! And he was kind! Well… kind enough. He did tell my charmingly-coiffed daughter that she had a bald head, but she accepted his excuse explanation that he was referring to his own hairless noggin, rather than calling her names.

The Kidling, it seems, is learning to choose her battles.

Bedtime approached, and we reviewed her day.  Because things had gone far better than usual, I wanted to reinforce that she is a fighter. As I kissed my dear child on the forehead, I told her that we all have rough patches. We will have difficult days and tough weeks, but we survive and get better as a result. “You are strong, you are kind, and you will be okay,” I reassured her.

As a slow smile spread across her face, she returned the compliment. “You are big, you are never late for anything, and you are gorgeous. And so am I.”

The Kidling has returned.

too much fiber

“My tummy hurts. I feel like I ate the Wizard of Oz book. Yeah. But I didn’t.”

-The Kidling
January 20, 2014

the unlikely logic of a little one

This was the weekend of forts. If you know The Kidling personally (as in, you have met her in real life. I admit that is a wholly arbitrary distinction. Many of you loyal readers surely know her as well as anyone else), this might seem to be an odd statement.

“Aren’t they all weekends of forts?” you are asking your iPads/phones/computer screens. “Wouldn’t a more accurate statement be ‘this is a lifetime of forts.’? The Mama should check with me before clicking ‘publish’. I could tell her a thing or two.”

And you would be right.

But (there is always a ‘but’), I’m talking about something a wee different than usual. Hence, the distinction. I’m the writer, and a weekend of forts, it is. A weekend of forts on her bed. A weekend of forts during which I caved and let The Kidling go to sleep in said forts. Forts, forts, forts, forts, forts.


On that glorious, fort-sleeping evening, The Kidling prepared her bed for a night’s rest. She tucked and adjusted, rearranged and spread. Once everything was in its rightful place, she picked up a flag she had made and looked around the fort with great contemplation. The silver tassels glittered as she waved it around, thinking. Before I had a chance to ask what on earth she was doing, The Kidling thought out loud,

“If only I could find some logical way to stick this in here somehow!”

If, dear Kidling, you find that logic, let me know. I misplaced mine very shortly after your birth.