short stories of short people

#1 the incredible inedible egg
Last month at about this time, Brennan made some observations around the house which necessitated a lesson about the menstrual cycle. I gave him a very simplified version of the process, without using the words, follicles, corpus luteum, or ovulation. Basically I taught him that once a month Mommy's body produces an egg that could turn into a baby under the right conditions. If those conditions are not met, the body doesn't need the egg anymore and therefore disposes of it. We also discussed additional consequences of this process; namely, hormones and their effect on mood and behavior (which happened to be one of Brennan's observations). He accepted all of this, took it in as Brennan typically does, and went on his merry way. Tonight as we were preparing for soccer practice Lori was effectively juggling 14 different tasks and it was beginning to wear on her; eventually this manifested itself in a bit of a snippy comment directed at me (which I may or may not have deserved...this is MY blog). She walked into the kitchen. Brennan (who was sitting next to me), looked up at me grinning, and said, "Maybe she's having that situation with the egg." Maybe so, Brennan. But if she hears us talking, there is a good chance that the "situation" and the "egg" will have less to do with the endometrium and more to do with Mommy throwing chicken eggs at us.

#2 drawing cartoons for school (DCFS)
Zoe is getting very good with the marker. She has been waiting for this moment for some time, and now that she can put together a story through pictures, she is quite pleased with herself. At school today her art class creation involved a large circular figure with spiky hair, four ears, a button nose, and a pleasant smile (all in red marker). This character is surrounded by a number of other smaller characters (all in yellow marker) who look rather forlorn. Or scared out of their minds. Think Dr. Seuss meets Wes Craven. It could mean any number of things, so no need to be concerned. She is a creative little girl. Except that it did mean something to Zoe. Something very specific. Something that she told to her teacher so that the teacher (remember, hippie/pacifist teacher) could record it for all eternity in the bottom right corner of the picture.

A monster touched the little boy.
And he is crying.
The family of monsters ate the little boy.

I don't know what disturbed me more...the touching or the eating. I think the touching. Just because I envision Zoe's teacher transcribing this particular statement and almost passing out. I'll let you know how the in-home visit goes. I'll blame it on Shel Silverstein.

#3 the devil wears robeez
Ava turned two on Friday (the day before the day that used to be recognized as my birthday). And Ava is definitely playing the part. Like Daniel Day Lewis staying in character during an entire filming, Ava has embraced being two in a very real and believable way. The only thing is, she has been in character for about 4 months now. She will hit you. She will scream unapologetically in public. And as the nice woman at the park now knows, if you are trying to charm her or admire her cuteness, and she does not want you in her face, she will yell 'NO!' at you very loudly. Her fear of the bathtub is only surpassed in intensity by her love of shoes. Any shoes. Your shoes. Numerous times this summer Lori had to chase Ava into the baby pool because she had heisted a stranger's flip flops and was making them hers. She is also incredibly agile. She has made it down our fairly steep, wooden stairs in: Lori's black pumps, my black chuck taylors, Brennan's Buzz Lightyear slippers, and Zoe's sleeping beauty dress up shoes (daily, sometimes hourly). When we try to remove these shoes from her, she turns into a miniature version of a Darren Star character, simply incredulous that someone could take shoes away from her. I have no idea what the shoes thing means. Maybe this will become an expensive habit. Or maybe she's the first kid to look in our closet, realizing instantly that Lori and I like shoes. A lot. Or maybe (and this is my theory), Ava just wants to be big. She wants to keep up with her brother and sister. She mimics them. She WILL walk a mile in their shoes. And more, if allowed. She wants to be them. And that's ok with us.

Minus the intelligent smart-alecness of her brother and the creative macabre mind of her sister, of course. Actually, throw them in there too. It is because of those things, not despite them, that we love these short people like we do.