the managing of expectations

Confession time.

Yes. Again. Apologies, but this does seem to be a good forum for such things.

I have been slacking lately in the meal department. Purchasing and preparing meals is a household task that I have, until recently, embraced.

Especially since it means The Dada handles the laundry. Yes, all of it. Yes, I do realize how lucky I am.

But lately… a half-hearted hug is the best I could do. The Family has been eating more than our fair share of quesadillas, pizza, and assorted pasta dishes, garnished with the not-infrequent dinner out for good measure. Suffice it to say I was quite pleased with myself Sunday evening when I served homemade squash apple soup and homemade truffled shiitake parmigiano reggiano risotto in the same meal.

Smug. S-M-U-G. Smug.

As is the case in oh-so-many cautionary tales, that hubris foreshadowed my downfall, for The Kidling began to sing during the meal:

“You get what you get, and you don’t throw a fit. You get your risotto, and you don’t throw a fit.”

I give up.

scientific principles

The Kidling is fascinated by the idea of evaporation and absorption. Particularly evaporation. That water can transform into a gas and “disappear” is really, really cool to a four-year-old. We have spent some time talking about what types of materials are capable of these two transformations and examples of when they happen in the natural world. She occasionally gets the two confused, but makes keen observations every now and then about the general principles.

Oh yes, I am an amazing mother who—along with my terrific husband—brilliantly parents my precocious child. Such advanced topics! So easily digested and translated into context! My little genius!

Imagine my surprise, then, when Alice looked at her underarm the other day and declared, “Brownies and stuff absorb into my armpit. It magically… umm… disappears into my armpit!”

Hubris is a bitch.