Friday, June 5, 2009

Purple Dress, Purple Shoes

I would assume Coras favorite color is purple. How fortuitous that her bedroom came, pre-home purchase equip with carpet and walls to match. I suspected such a happy coincidence when her daycare lady showed me picture after picture colored with only purple crayons. There must be a "favorite color purple" gene attached to her Dads DNA, straight from Gramma.

Having recieved her birthday money from Great Grandma and Grandpa late (due entirely to MOM's fault), we stopped by the mall to acquire a present. Actually, we stopped to get a present, a new pair of summer sandels for her, and pants for the pregnant lady(my husband says the pregnant thing is entirely MOM's fault too.) She was only mildly interested in toys, she passed by the build a bear work shop with indifference, and she didn't appear interested in the hair fru fru store. Instead, she wanted to get cloths.

I can't blame her. Due to a bit of luck, her sister just got a brand new wardrobe for the summer and fall from a pre-yard sale. Its smashing cute outfits. Cora helped me fold them, and kept asking if it was hers or Nyobis. I could see the dissappointment when we ended the load with huge Nyobi stacks and not much Cora. Lets face it, having nice things can be very pleasant.

Thats where the purple dress comes in. It had cool india esque designs that she admired on the big girl cloths we passed. She literally began to strip to try it on the second she saw it. Amusing yes, but a little embarressing to yell at a child for trying to Nakify themselves in the middle of a clothing store.

She now has worn the dress for the better part of three days. She took it off to sleep at night only at my insistance, or threat of destruction. All her other new cloths lie forgotten in her drawers.

The best part for her, is that it matches the purple sandels. It also matches her purple room, purple carpet, and purple bed spread. She also might have purple toe nails.

Today we will go to the bike shop and variety store and see what else she wants to get with birthday money. I doubt even tassels for her bike or new sand toys will top the purple dress though. She glows with joy while wearing it.

I also need to wash it tonight, after I once again explain that dresses aren't for sleeping in. Then break down and explain that if she insists in sleeping in it I will have to get rid of it. One of these days she's going to call my bluff, and I'll be forced to eat my threat.

Thursday, June 4, 2009

My peach!

I recently purchased some peaches at the grocery store. Peaches taste almost as good as brownies right now. Both taste comparably worse than coffee, but my OB frowns on coffee while pregnant, something about increasing chances of miscarriage. I have to admit that is a dirty tactic when it comes to banning foodstuffs from pregnant ladies. For some reason I can break all the rules that lead to MY personal discomfort, but not the ones that hurt that little life on the inside.

Now peaches are one of those foods best purchased in stages. You pick some that are soft for now and some hard for later. I didn't have kids at the grocery store so I used time to weed through and pick peaches that would pretty much be the right soft at a rate of about one a day. This afternoon I went in to grab the one nice soft peach for dessert. Nani, Cora and Nyobi already scarfed down cookies, so I figured my peach was safe.

Wrong assumption. Cora appeared like a little bird demanding part of my "apple". Once she called it a peach, I realized I was required under the good Mom rule to share. After all, I assured myself. Cora doesn't like peaches, they have fuzz on the outside.

A few bites later, her little hands divested my fingers of the peach. In two minutes she returned to me the pit, said "Thank You, Mom. I'm full."

Well, at least she used her manners the little peach thief.

Wednesday, June 3, 2009


We have an oscillating stand fan that we use in front of the living room windows to help create air flow, and lower the chances of turning on the air conditioner. Its nice, portable and works well. When we brought it upstairs, we noticed Cora eyeing it in the way children eye a new toy they are not sure how to play with.

My instructions to place it somewhere where she could not stand behind it with her long hair puzzled my husband at first. Then when he realized the tragedy I was attempting to avoid, he quickly pushed it back against the window casement. If you have never had long hair, you just don't think about it getting pulled into the fans motor.

Second, in an attempt to demonstrate the danger of fans my husband took a crayon and with Cora in attendance shoved it through the protective grate. In true fan esque fashion, it chopped up one end in a wappity wappity fury. Coras eyes lit up in amazement, and something else.

He went on to explain in a grave voice that fingers could be chopped up in similar abandon. "Do not stick things through the bars!" He finished. She traipsed off to get ready for bed. My husband turned to me, and saw my barely controlled laughter. It broke him down and began to giggle regretfully. "I don't think that lesson went exactly as planned." He finished.

Today I got out of the shower to a wappity wappity noise. Cora came bounding down the hallway a short while later, a stick in hand. "I put this in the fan Mom, did you hear it?" She said excitedly.

"You're not supposed to put things in the fan, Cora. You could break things! Like yourself!" I admonished her, trying to crush the exuberance with a quelling look.

There was a pause, as she turned her eyes away in troubled thought, and then reverted to her usual state of excitement. "I didn't break my stick! So its okay Mommy! Besides, Daddy showed me how to do it safe."

Ah, Daddy, if you only knew HOW poorly that lesson went.