What does she write? Helpful notes like this:
Besides being a first-born, rule-oriented writer, Calla loves to dance, loves to eat, and loves to create. She's been trying to help in the kitchen more, and her "specialties" this year include cranberry sauce, chicken salad and rice pudding. We've started sewing together, which is a little like the blind leading the blind. We have a book and so far have made a stuffed animal and one coaster, which she proudly gave her beloved kindergarten teacher.
What else? She asks questions a lot, usually tough ones. Her question this week was why we have words for things that aren't real, like ghosts and zombies. Where she has heard about zombies, I have no idea, but I'm glad she knows they aren't real. But she didn't want to hear my suggestion that sometimes things that aren't real make for good stories. Grounded in the practical, this one. I've got time to nurture a love of mythology.
Joe gave Calla a nickname this fall after a visit to the park where they discovered acorns with what Calla identified as squirrel teeth marks in them. With disgust, she refused to touch the acorns because if there were teeth marks, there was sure to be squirrel spit on them. And thus, the nickname Squirrel Spit was born. Calla is not a fan. She'd rather be called Daisy, she tells me. That's sweet, I tell her. But it's not Squirrel Spit.
Calla wants to be a teacher, a scientist and a mommy when she grows up. She and Corrie play "Mommy and Sweetie" frequently, so Calla is getting some good on-the-job experience. Sometimes, she can get Corrie dressed when all Corrie wants to do is run around naked. Frequently, I'll hear Corrie calling for mama, mama, mama... and when I finally answer, she'll say "No, not Mama Kaffy, I mean Mama Cawa!"
And speaking of little sister...
OK, she's sweet and smart and sassy. And really cute when she's not screaming. But she's also crazy. I re-read my last post (from, ahem, like 16 months ago?) and there's much that's the same. She would still eat butter right from the dish. She would still pour cereal into a bowl on the floor and feed the dog and herself. I think she did it yesterday, in fact. She can still denude a bookshelf in 30 seconds flat. Like tonight during dinner. The difference is she can do it much more articulately now.
She's a go-getter, that one. She'll ask if she can have a snack (say, candy, at 8:15 am). When I say no (because it's still breakfast time, for example) and suggest she eat her cereal and watch a little Dora while I finish getting dressed, she might appear to accept that alternative. I might be lulled into thinking I can get dressed like the professional I am and make it to work on time. And then while I'm applying make-up, I'll hear the tell-tale sounds of a chair being pulled across the kitchen floor and when I come down to investigate, Corrie is propped up on the counter, pulling chocolate down from my once-secret hiding place. Do you know, I had an old triscuit box full of emergency chocolate sitting in plain view on the counter for two years... Calla never cared. With Corrie, I have to put it on the highest shelves and she still tries to get it.
And then there is no fury like a Corrie denied candy. Or goldfish crackers. Or whatever toy Calla wants to play with. Her face scrunches up, she starts to wail, and she throws herself on the floor. Especially with an audience. She won't waste a good tantrum on the dog.
Joe's nickname for Corrie is Cheese Stick. For obvious reasons. Corrie's favorite foods, if she could design her own menu, would be focused on cheese, cornbread, and pine nuts. And more cheese. And then dessert.
And she can talk. She's a talker. I don't have to interpret for her as much as I used to, although there still are some good Corrie-isms. You-kick, for example. That's music. She can actually say "music" if prompted. But on her own, she'll come out with "you-kick." I don't even know how to spell that. In the summer, we eat cold "pock-a-sickles." She's convinced that "soft" is a verb. As in, "I'm just going to soft I'vy's tail." Or, "soft my blanket, it's comfy like a bunny." I know I'm supposed to correct her, but it's so dang cute. She's not going to use soft as a verb on the ACTs, right?
Corrie loves to sing. Favorites now are "You are my Sunshine" and "Oh, Susannah." The distance from home to school is about 4 Oh, Susannah's worth. She loves books, although doesn't always care to sit still to be read to. She loves to take books to bed and it's fairly common that I have to pull a book off her face when I check on her at night. She'll hide books under her pillow or under the covers, just in case. In case of what? I don't know.
And then they'll start to play again. That's just how we roll around here.
Oh, what about Joe and me? We're fine. Just fine. You'll likely have to wait until the 2013 retrospective for the next blog post to hear about us.
Until next year...
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