More family tidbits today, to hold my place until we get back from the Adirondacks. Up today: Julianna, Nicholas, and Michael.
Oh, Julianna. She has been showing interest in Barbie dolls and imaginative play at last. But it’s causing me a little trouble, because I can’t figure out how much she understands about reality versus fantasy. It’s kind of disconcerting to have your eight-year-old come to you and whimper, “Mommy, I miss my Frozen friends. When can I see my Frozen friends?”
And it’s not Anna she wants, either.
“Mom.” She leans on the door frame. “I need Kristoph to snugga me.”
“Mom, when it, gets, snowing, outside, can I, can I go sledding with, with Anna and Kristoph?”
“Mommy, can Kristoph, can Kristoph, dance with me?”
“Mommy, can you drive on the way to Frozen of Arandelle?”
Julianna’s eye appointment last week was also disconcerting. She could not read any of the lines on the projection screen. She was just tossing out random letters. You know how G and O and Q can get mixed up…but this wasn’t like that. Disturbed, I got up and started pointing to specific letters. I pointed to A. “What is that letter?”
I pointed to R. “And that one?”
I exchanged glances with the assistants, who scrolled up a couple of lines…but it didn’t help. The letters were enormous before she started getting them right. The eye doctor told us to bring her back next week with her eyes dilated so they could get an accurate reading. But this makes me wonder if this is why she always wants to have screens and books three inches from her face.
Nicholas has spent this summer growing…out as well as up—this kid really is turning into a linebacker. Mostly, though, his feet are getting huge. He asks the most random questions, like: “Mom, is there gravel on the gravel strips at the side of the road?” I had to explain that it’s growl, not gravel, so no. And then he said, “Would it hurt to walk on them with your bare feet?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “I’ve never walked barefoot on growl strips.”
Never even thought about walking barefoot on growl strips, if you want to know the truth. Shall I just refer back to that “boys are just different” post?
His real claim to fame this summer, though, is how hard and well he’s worked at swim. I told him at the beginning of the summer that I wanted him to push himself so he could be safe in the pool by the end of swim lessons this year—and I do believe we’re just about there. He’s justifiably proud of himself, and so am I.
Michael got his own post the other day, so maybe I’ll just share this little gem:—standing on a chair, out of nowhere, he says: “Mom, I think Jesus DID carry a sword.”
Did I mention boys are just different?