Blog Archives
“I can rescue myself!”
“I a princess!”
There are some moments where you can see a flash of the person you hope your child is becoming. It’s hard to know during those moments how much of it is brainwashing (admittedly by me), desire to please you, their own personality or good upbringing (:-)). But they sure do make you feel good inside.
K’s teachers are constantly telling me that she speaks her mind (loudly). One of her teachers calls her “fresh.” Which is probably more accurate than my preferred word of “sassy” since it communicates her tendency to defy authority from time to time.
At any rate – judge for yourself yesterday’s scenario:
K said to her preschool teacher (ticking off each of the following with successive fingers):
- “I can surrender”
- “I can protect”
- “I a princess”
- “I’m wearing a purple dress.”
“I look pretty now, right?”
Says her teacher: “What’s the fifth one? And if you’re a princess, does that mean you want a prince to come swoop you off your feet and rescue you?”
Replies K: “oh no, I can do all that myself!”
- “I can rescue things.”
My Self-Rescuing Princess
Like this:
My Kid Uses Chopsticks Better Than I Do
Seriously. My father used to tell me that the true test of someone’s ability to use chopsticks was being able to pick up peanuts with them. I wonder what he would think of my not quite three year old picking up Goldfish? See below for pictures. Read the rest of this entry
Alphabetize This!
Many of the people who know me have heard me refer to “Letter night,” which happens every month or two and to which I always look forward. The premise is this: We cook our way through the alphabet. So for example, for the letter A, everyone brought a dish that began with the letter A. It was always a surprise to see what we ended up with and how different they could be. As I recall, I first joined this tradition around the letter “I”, and it took about another 5 years to make it through the rest of the alphabet.
I think we’ve all enjoyed these nights, and so when we got to Z, we decided to start again – with a twist. This time, the host (as determined by alphabetical order, of course), decides what ingredient we all work with, ala Iron Chef/Chopped. For A night, Amy decided on Artichokes. And this past weekend, Colleen decided on, of all things, Bologna.
Like this:
Super K Strikes Again
For the amount that I write about my kid, this blog is turning into a Mommy Blog that has no mission. For that, I’m sorry. If you’re here for my deep thoughts, well, you should realize by now that those are relatively spread out and interspersed with fluff. Sorry.
On the other hand, if you’re here to hear about my sassy kid, you’ve come to the right place. Those of you who are Facebook friends of mine will have already heard this story, so you can feel free to tune out now.
Like this:
Celebrating the New Year – ABC-style
In my last post, K and I wished you all a hearty Gung Hay Fat Choy, in honor of the Chinese New Year. Well, today, J, K and I all went down to Chinatown to watch the Lion Dance festivities.
And a Gung Hay Fat Choy to you too
It’s Chinese New Year, a time of celebration and togetherness. This and K’s birthday are probably the two times of year that I most regret not living close to my family.
Take Your Girliness and Shove It
Why does this exist?
Most of you know my rather strong feelings about gender stereotypes and expectations. I don’t have a problem with girls being exposed to “girly” things, but I do have a problem because it seems that everything a girl is exposed to is “girly.” Why are there entire aisles awash in pink? Why must everything be Barbie-this or Princess-that? And why do I always have to go to the boys’ section to find red, grey or black gloves or shoes that are neither pink nor have hearts or princesses all over them?
Like this:
Sideshow Act: She can sing! She can read!
Right this way, ladies and gentlemen! It’s the one, the only, the amazing, singing, dancing and reading K!
Sometimes I feel like a carnival barker when I post pictures and videos about my kid. I mean, how irritating must it be to everyone else besides my family? And let’s face it – nearly every parent thinks their kid rocks. It’s genetically engrained in us so we don’t, you know, eat our young or sacrifice them to the minotaur or whatever. It’s kind of like how no parent of a six-month old can accurately explain what it’s like to be the parent of a newborn. It’s only been half a year, but nature has a way of fuzzing it all out so that you won’t convince yourself or others around you NEVER TO PROCREATE AGAIN. And I say that as the mother of a kid who was really pretty easy at that age (I think. But really, given what I just said, can you trust me?) Read the rest of this entry
