When The Precious was a baby, he was happy as he sat in his little baby seat with his little baby smile and tried to make eye contact with all mankind.
When Lefty was a baby, he was happy as he sat in his little baby seat and played with his little baby fingers and toes and was perfectly content to ignore all mankind.
When Angel Doll was a baby, she was happy as she stood on her little baby seat and reached for all manner of things she shouldn't touch and seemed determined to conquer all mankind.
When Pixie was a freshly caught dewdrop, she scowled. She didn't cry or fuss or complain of a problem, she just sat in her little baby seat with a furrowed brow. This perturbed me. What troubled her?
We would talk to her and play with her and read to her and she would stare back at us, chomp on her pacifier, and furrow her brow. Was she disappointed in the family she got? Were we confusing to her? Did she disapprove of me as her mother?
We would wrap her and hold her and rock her. Stare...chomp...furrow.
I'd leave Pixie in the baby swing while I folded clean laundry. (I hoped it was clean. There were three preschoolers and a man in the house. You never know.) When I would glance at her over my stack of presumed clean towels, she'd be watching me with her brow furrowed.
Lefty and The Precious would play while Angel Doll napped. Pixie would watch them and furrow her brow.
Hunneypunkin would come home from work and greet everyone. Pixie would stare at him from under her tiny furrowed brow.
Somewhere around a year old, Pixie found her voice--her precocious, irreverent voice--and changed her major from furrowing to communicating. I never discovered exactly what it was that furrowed Pixie's brow. She's a vibrant cheerful impish teenager now, and almost as famous as Jeremy Renner, but if you're careless enough to make her angry, you still might make her little brow furrow.
Tuesday, April 23, 2013
Monday, April 22, 2013
Sunday, April 7, 2013
What Not to Wash Your Hair With
The Precious is a serious and studious fellow, a likeable sort (except to his siblings in his sheepdogging moments), uncannily intuitive, and a responsible, respectful, respectable young man, with a unique way with words and perhaps a tendency to never talk when he should and occasionally talk when he shouldn't. When he does talk, don't judge, just listen. You'll probably learn something, even if you thought of yourself as his better or his elder. And if his voice gets lower suddenly, listen more closely because you're likely to hear something unexpected...maybe even to him.
The rest of us were having breakfast one morning and Angel Doll offered him the platter of pancakes, but The Precious respectfully declined in a normal and natural voice and proclaimed that HE would--his chest puffed out slightly and his voice dropped lower--"make MANcakes!" I spit syrup all over kingdom come. Angel Doll just shrugged.
Pixie offered him a banana, but he preferred a (you guessed it) manana.
Not long after, while Lefty and The Precious were...I don't know, stabbing each other with sticks or something, The Precious came through the back door gleefully dripping blood everywhere. "What did you do?" I asked. "Nothing," he smiled, "I just need a Mand-aid."
Everybody was bickering one evening because no one wanted to go out into the chilly air to put the dogs in the kennel and the chickens in the coop and make sure the kitties had clean water to drink. The Precious gallantly grabbed his jacket and said, "I'LL take care of the manimals.''
I picked up some specialty chocolates this year for Valentine's Day, but The Precious was disappointed. He'd just had oral surgery and wasn't supposed to eat Valentine mandy.
My daughters are a little embarrassed that I'm an avid (rabid?) Jeremy Renner fan. The Precious thinks it's mantastic.
But my favorite, my very favorite moment of all, was when The Precious was getting ready to take a shower and noticed that the dispenser in his bathroom was empty. He came out of his bathroom saying, "I have to wash my hair, I need some Manpoo...wait--"
I was concerned this story might be too much exposure of The Precious, but he says he can mandle it.
The rest of us were having breakfast one morning and Angel Doll offered him the platter of pancakes, but The Precious respectfully declined in a normal and natural voice and proclaimed that HE would--his chest puffed out slightly and his voice dropped lower--"make MANcakes!" I spit syrup all over kingdom come. Angel Doll just shrugged.
Pixie offered him a banana, but he preferred a (you guessed it) manana.
Not long after, while Lefty and The Precious were...I don't know, stabbing each other with sticks or something, The Precious came through the back door gleefully dripping blood everywhere. "What did you do?" I asked. "Nothing," he smiled, "I just need a Mand-aid."
Everybody was bickering one evening because no one wanted to go out into the chilly air to put the dogs in the kennel and the chickens in the coop and make sure the kitties had clean water to drink. The Precious gallantly grabbed his jacket and said, "I'LL take care of the manimals.''
I picked up some specialty chocolates this year for Valentine's Day, but The Precious was disappointed. He'd just had oral surgery and wasn't supposed to eat Valentine mandy.
My daughters are a little embarrassed that I'm an avid (rabid?) Jeremy Renner fan. The Precious thinks it's mantastic.
But my favorite, my very favorite moment of all, was when The Precious was getting ready to take a shower and noticed that the dispenser in his bathroom was empty. He came out of his bathroom saying, "I have to wash my hair, I need some Manpoo...wait--"
I was concerned this story might be too much exposure of The Precious, but he says he can mandle it.
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