Little Miss Mischief

Morgan has recently proved she is a wellspring of trouble. Here is a countdown of her most recent antics.

3 days ago: Unrolled the toilet paper. I came in to the bathroom to help her take care of business and found her walking her fingers along the toilet paper roll to unwind it. She just looked at me and kept on going. I reprimanded her, but she still kept going. "My fingers are doing it. I can't stop them."

2 days ago: Emptied about 1/2 of a bottle of conditioner into her bath. Even after rinsing, she was extra soft and smooth. "I needed to put it on my legs."

1 day ago: Squirted lotion all over the kitchen. I mean ALL over. I found it over and under the counters, table, chairs, stools. She made an impressive trail across the floor. I even found it in the heating and intake vents. Have you ever tried to clean things out of vents? [I will count my blessings here, because there could be much worse things to clean out of vents. Just ask Jeremy. And lotion is easier to clean up than diaper cream, which Marissa once smeared all over herself.] "I had to give Zeke some lotion." Yes, there was also lotion on the dog.

Today: Emptied the entire bookshelf of its contents. I walked into her room to discover a humongous pile of books. Putting them back, I found books I didn't even know we owned. Jeremy asked her to please not ever do it again. "But I like it."

Tomorrow: I feel dread.

[I realize this makes me look like a completely absent parent. I promise these things happen with astonishing efficiency. Really.]

My Valentines

Here is a photo tribute to the Valentines in my life. I love these guys!

Speaking of Compliments

I received the following email a few days ago:

Anneka,

I just wanted to let you know how grateful I was for Marissa's help at activity days. When the bread was made and in the oven I set to cleaning up the mess. Marissa just jumped in and did what she saw needed to be done. It is so nice to have girls who are so observant and willing to help.

Jenny

These kinds of things lift my spirits and make my day. I see this helpful behavior from Marissa all the time, and it feels pretty great to have someone else notice and acknowledge it as well.

So Very Complimentary

Have you ever received a compliment you had to think about for awhile? Many years ago I had a conversation with a friend that went something like this . . .

Friend: You're like Mary Tyler Moore.

Me: ???
[You have to know here that I grew up without a TV, so pop culture references prior to the '90's tend to escape me. I'm still playing catch-up.]

Friend: Yeah, cause people just like you.

Well, thanks! Even with unusual delivery, I'm willing to accept a compliment.

I've also been told that I radiate. My question: Are you sure it's not just a trick of light reflecting off my glow-in-the-dark, super-white skin?

Another time I gave a devotional at girl's camp. I chose to talk about God's creations and how we can feel His love through them and show our love for Him by showing respect for nature, etc. Afterward, a friend told me how awesome it was and raved about it. I was flattered, until about a year later she ran away to join some Mother Earth cult thing. Nice.

"Terrifical"

Some things just get better with age. Ramona Quimby, I am convinced, is one of those things. I read several of the books by Beverly Cleary as a kid. Aside from just being fun to read, I remember thinking it was pretty nifty that the main character had the same name as my mom. That was about it.

Then about a year and a half ago, Marissa and I were looking for something to read together at night. I borrowed a box set of the Ramona books from my mom, and Marissa and I dove in. I thoroughly enjoyed the books in so many ways. Mostly, I marveled at how Beverly Cleary so perfectly captured the imagination, the worries, the antics, and the mindset of an eight-year-old girl. Marissa was about the same age as Ramona at the time, and I felt myself propelled into her world. At one point while reading Ramona and Her Mother, I actually started to cry [much to the puzzlement of Marissa] simply because I felt like Cleary provided me a lens through which I could better understand my daughter. On top of that, I appreciated the descriptions of Oregon, which brought me back to growing up there, wearing rubber boots to school, jumping in mud puddles, and finding worms after a rain storm.

Last night I had the TV to myself and watched the movie Ramona and Beezus, and it felt like a blissful guilty pleasure. I loved the portrayals of Ramona's brilliant imagination, her desire to be good and responsible, the neat and not-so-neat of family relationships. It impressed me how the themes written about in the late 70's and early 80's translated so well to a modern story. I laughed out loud and cried a little bit, too. I should probably mention that Marissa also watched the movie at least a couple of times while we had it. Definitely a treat for younger sisters, older sisters, daughters, mothers, and fathers. [Sorry, brothers. It's nothing personal. Although you might like it, too.] If Ramona Quimby needs a fan club, we could probably start here.

Farewell, Groundhog . . .

. . . you've been replaced. Aiden came home from school today and said excitedly:

"Mom, guess what! Tomorrow is Warthog Day!"

I think it's pretty safe to say that it will definitely be afraid of its shadow.