This Monday I’m continuing my brand new tradition of sending out some quick snippets of moments, thoughts, and favorites from the week.
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“Mama, does poo have pee in it?” That’s what I heard. But what she said was “Does Pooh have ‘P’ in it?” After the second it took my brain to auto correct from Pooh’s bathroom habits to early reader letter-sound association habits, I said, “Little Friend! You just did a reading step! You figured out Pooh’s letter!” Her body froze. Her eyes flashed. “You mean, did I read?” she asked with some hesitation. “Yes!” I proclaimed, partially truthfully. “Yay!” Her body squiggled with pure excitement under her Tangled bedsheets. The audiobook narrator plodded on through Pooh and Piglets expeditions, oblivious to the milestone celebrated in an ordinary moment.
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Sticky. July sticky. Sticky arm pits. Sticky fingers. Sticky backs of knees. Little Friend survives a sticky day at the amusement park and closes the adventure with her first pink cloud of cotton candy. “Mama. This is the goodest thing I’ve ever tasted.” Sticky mouth. I want these memories to be sticky, too.
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From the backyard of my childhood home, the dome of heaven is a blue canvas stretched arms-wide with towers of clouds stacked in white and gray swirling bricks.
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Little One nuzzles in for bed, her bath-damp wisps of curls pressing warm and damp and soft against my chin. Growing so quickly into a toddler, she has moments of pure baby still in her.
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A conversation overheard between Little Friend and her cousins, Buddy (age 5), and Itty Bitty (age 7)
LF: “Buddy, your hair is sticking up.”
B: “Nah-uh. It’s a mohawk.”
LF: “What’s a mohawk?”
IB (with the sage wisdom of the oldest authority): “It’s like a ponytail for boys.”
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I eat my lunch with the nearest book at hand for company. In this case, I peer at the teeny iPhone screen and tap-tap-tap to turn the quick pages. I find I’m lingering over this summer read–lingering in an uncomfortable dining room chair long after I’ve speared the last bite of mango pork. Lingering past midnight as I tap-tap-tap in the dark. Outlanders by Diana Gabaldon.
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I’m looking forward to making this Pinterest-logged recipe after my next trip to the Farmer’s Market to buy cauliflower.
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My favorite instagram from the week:
I love this post! Your daughter is such a sweetie. Love how excited she got over “reading”.
Going to check out that book and recipe you linked.
~FringeGirl
Thanks for the snippets. They become full blown delights for me.