Hard of Hearing

This morning as Kathleen and I walked out of the door to head to school, Lucy emerged from the hallway carrying her shoes and socks in her hand.

“You don’t have your shoes and socks on yet?” I queried.

“NO!” Lucy threw herself on the floor and proceeded to pull her socks as if trying to get her feet to shoot out the other side. “I told you three hundred times that I needed help to get them on,” she said with obvious disdain while simultaneously putting on her socks and shoes without any help.

“Wow. Three hundred times. I must have missed that.”

At that, Lucy leaned her face forward and brought her pupils as close as possible to her forehead. “It’s like you don’t have ears.” She paused. “That’s what mom says!”

It’s funny, because I don’t remember hearing her mother ever say that. But it does sound a lot like her …

On a side note, my mother will enjoy this story because I have heard her say things like this. It’s almost like everyone around me just talks too quietly.

The Tyrant on the High Bars

We usually have a good 40 minutes between pick up at the girl’s school and when Lucy has to be at gymnastics. Plenty of time to get home, have a snack, watch an episode of some show, and then leisurely make our way to the car.

On some Wednesdays, when needed, we pick up another gymnastics girl (Mazie) at school and ferry her to our house and then to gymnastics. She is one grade above Kathleen and Kathleen and Lucy have made friends with her throughout the year, basically on the basis of the time that they spend together in transit. She gets ready for gymnastics at school, which slows us a few minutes. But in general she is faster moving than my 7 year old, so it doesn’t slow us much.

This morning, however, Lucy decided that she wanted to be like Mazie. She wanted to put her leotard on at school. I tried to explain to her that this was really not necessary. That this would require her putting her leo in her back pack, having it with her all day, and then changing in a public restroom. All the while the other option would be coming back to her own room where, with no special preparation, she would find her leotard hanging and be able to change in private while everyone else sat comfortably in the living room.

Lucy was hearing none of it. Thus it was that Kathleen, Mazie, and I found ourselves standing in a warm Elementary School hallway waiting for Lucy to emerge from the bathroom having changed out of her clothes, put on her leotard, then put her clothes back on over the top of the leotard. And from there we went to our house.

We now have only about fifteen minutes at home before leaving for gymnastics. I am still unclear on whether Lucy is going to take her over-clothes off again before heading out. But doubtless she will eventually tell me. After all, she is clearly the one in charge here. #HeldHostageBySevenYearOldLogic

Easter Eggs and Hash Browns

Jennifer asked what we should have for Easter dinner.

Kathleen responded that we should have breakfast for dinner. Because: “Easter is about new life and new beginnings and breakfast is what you eat at the beginning of a new day.”

Now, I’m sure that Kathleen was just riffing in order to get what she wanted for dinner. But that’s not a half bad theological justification for eating bacon in the afternoon. So we are going with it.


A few months ago, Lucy and Kathleen moved into the same room. Sure, it makes for a concentrated mess with Kathleen’s taekwondo outfit mixing with Lucy’s gymnastics stuff on the floor. But In general this has had a remarkably positive influence on the girls’ ability to sleep through the night without sneaking into bed with their parents.

Tonight, however, Lucy is struggling. She has emerged multiple times on the verge of tears saying she wants to sleep with one of us.

“I just feel really lonely,” she sobs.

“But you’re with Kathleen,” Jennifer says, “so why would you feel lonely?”

“Well,” Lucy replies, her face scrunching up to hold back tears, “Kathleen is only a half-yellow-belt. So I don’t really feel fully protected.”

For some reason I don’t think her mother and me cracking up made her feel better.

Family: the zero sum game

Over the weekend, Kathleen had a Girl Scout’s event in the early afternoon before Lucy’s Birthday Party. To make the schedule easier we asked one of the Girl Scout leaders (whose daughter was also coming to the party) to bring Kathleen. They got stuck in traffic making their way across town. This is the conversation in the car as it was related to me.

Kathleen: “Come on! Come on! We need to make it to the party. We are going to be late! Can’t you drive faster?”

Girl Scout leader: “Kathleen, calm down. We will just be a little late.”

Kathleen: “But … but, they might start eating the cake!”

Girl Scout leader: “Are you worried about missing your sister’s party, or about missing the cake?”

Kathleen (sarcastic): “Um … THE CAKE!”

Girl Scout leader: “Kathleen! If you are going to be worried it should be because it’s your sister’s party. Silly girl. There is plenty of cake, and your family is going to take what doesn’t get eaten home after the party. There will be leftovers.”

Kathleen: “Clearly you don’t know my family.”


For the record, there WERE leftovers!