Friday, May 29, 2009
Well, yesterday was the last day of school for Gi in her two year old class. Come August she will be in the three year old class. I can't believe it...my little Munch is going to turn three!!! Other parents have always told me that time flies and it is so true. I see my Munch developing so many new skills and gaining so much confidence. I'm so grateful for every minute I have to watch her grow in my front row seat.
Sunday, May 24, 2009
I'm sitting caddy corner to Gi at the dinner table, both of us eating our breakfast. We are chatting, the two of us still in our chosen form of pajamas. My choice happens to be a beat-up old tank top and my customary drawers aka frumpy mom-wear 101. Our daily topic of growing up tall and strong comes up as usual to Gi's delight. She squeals something unintelligible at first so I ask her to repeat it. She points her tiny index finger to the right side of my body and bellows something again. Too embarrassed to show my daughter that I still can't comprehend fully what she is saying to me I cheerfully look behind me at the armoir and asks her if she wants something from the inside of it. Not deterred by my linguistic inapptitude, she merrily hollers and points again. This time I notice that she is pointing at my upper right arm (not the armoir behind me) and can make out the the phrases, me want hair, me big girl, me eat all my food. Well, it finally dawns on me that my Munch is telling me that she wants hair in her underarm just like Mommy. Charming isn't it? Recovering quickly from Munch's astute but damning observation of my occasional lack of feminine upkeep, I continue the conversation.
"Er, yes, that's right. If you want to be a big girl and have hair in your underarm, you should eat all your food."
"Me big girl. Me want hair. Me eat all my cereal, Mommy!"
"That's my big girl! I'm so happy to hear you say that!"
Munch turns her attention back to her bowl of cereal and manages to eat half of it. She announces that she is all done and gets out of her chair by herself. Oh well, good intentions is everything, right?
Friday, May 15, 2009
Sunday, May 10, 2009
I hope all the mommies and mommies-to-be I know had a wonderful day today. My day started out as usual with Munch waking up, bulldozing her way into our bedroom and wedging herself between Hubs and me in our bed. Not strong on subtlety, Munch announces that she is ready to play with her toys and wants EVERYONE to get out of bed. We comply and start our morning routine. Munch runs to her room to change out of her diaper and into her panties. I groggily follow her and is pleasantly surprised by a lovely red rose in Gi's outstretched hand. "Appy mommy day," whispers Gi as Hubs stands beside her beaming with pride. We continued our celebration with a little dim sum at a local Chinese restaurant. Then we came home for a little R&R. We conclude our day with a home cooked meal for Poh Poh and Gon Gon. And now Munch is fast asleep and I am not too far from that state of mind. Another year as a mother...a gift indeed.
Saturday, May 09, 2009
The prince and princesses are quiet as they savor their birthday treat.
Mr. Ed puts on a silly face to entertain the birthday girl and her cohorts.
Oh my gosh, what a fun morning and afternoon for Gi and her bffs! Today we helped Brea celebrate her third birthday princess style. Can it be? Our girls are growing up so quickly. The whole gang is two and older now. Gi will turn three in August followed by Sammy who will turn four in November. Then little Miss Olivia will hit the big three in December. Time flies. We have to enjoy every moment. Big smooches to our birthday girl, Brea.
Monday, May 04, 2009
With a big sigh of relief, Hubs and I welcome the end of Gi's cold which descended on us about two Fridays ago. No longer contagious nor super grumpy, Munch is getting back to her active, fun-loving, sweet self. Her sense of humor has returned also. Munch's latest kick is to accuse her exasperated parents of being the opposite sex. Somewhere in toddlerville, this must qualify as the ultimate affront to one's self-perception. The banter often begins when Munch is being asked to do something she does not wholeheartedly want to do like eating dinner or picking up after herself.
"Mama, you a boy." (spoken with a wayward grin on her cherubic face and a little finger pointed at you)
"I'm not a boy! Mommy's a girl, you silly goose. You're a boy."
"Yes, Mama, you a pee pee boy!"
"What about Daddy? Is he a boy?"
"Daddy a girl!" (same mischieveous grin on her face)
"What about Poh Poh?"
"Poh Poh old girl."
"How about Gon Gon?"
"Gon Gon old boy."
After a few minutes of teasing Hubs and me, Munch usually stops with the assumption that we have completely forgotten that she should be eating her plateful of mac-n-cheese or picking up the 50 billion pieces of playdough that she has scattered on the living room floor. We're not that easily distracted yet, Munch, but give us another ten years and it's anybody's guess.
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