Random post-ettes about my daughter:
- She's at the age now where she takes in EVERYTHING that's said around her (unless you're speaking to her while she's watching TV. That's the like the Cone of Silence has descended around her). This has two annoying manifestations:
1) We can't talk crap about anyone near her. The acquaintance who has unsightly hairs growing out of his nose? Can't be discussed around my daughter, lest she clamber up him one day, and jab at his nose while discussing how distracting the hairs are. It's hard to live in judgement, beautiful judgement, of other people, when your child goes and rats you out.
2) She wants all conversations brought down to a level where she can understand them. Often after I mention something to my wife, my daughter will jump in and ask, "Can you explain that to me?" It's very sweet but when I'm discussing the merits of Linux vs Mac OSX, it's hard to bring it down to her level. "Well, pumpkin, have they covered the economics of open source technology in kindergarten yet?".
- One of my daughter's friends came by on Sunday morning with his mom, for a surprise visit. My wife was out of the house, so I had to try and be a good host for this lady and her son. Hostifying isn't really one of my strengths as a human being. Had this been one of my friends, it would be no big deal, but I hardly knew this lady and didn't know how formal she was, and the house was a sty: toys strewn about the living room, dirty dishes all over the kitchen, and food daintily covering a variety of surfaces. What would Miss Manners suggest I do in this situation?
A) Clean and tidy while making small talk?
B) Pretend like nothing was amiss?
I opted for B, and the lady did her best to pick up toys and bits of clutter whenever I wasn't looking. My reputation as a horrible parent was cemented when my daughter proudly brought over a piece of paper, kissing it and waving it around. The lady was curious to know what it was and I sheepishly explained that this was my daughter's crib sheet for Texas Hold 'em.
- Randomly, my daughter started to sing this song this weekend: "I am made of BLUBBER! BLUBBER BLUBBER BLUBBER! Oh, I am made of BLUBBER!" Kids are weird