A Day with Lilly

Lilly wakes up with a smile every day.

Every day, she bounces out of bed (I know because I hear the thump) and rushes to see us.

This is usually pretty cool, because neither of the boys cares to see us until they need a ride somewhere.

Once they figure out how to use scissors to open cereal, they're basically just here for the free laundry.

I've stopped fighting with her about her outfits.  If she wants to wear a velvet party dress with some fruit themed knee socks, well, life is short.

She bounces out the door, and is better than I am about remembering her lunch box.

When I pick her up, she has absorbed the energy from her little friends, and is full of questions.

"Mom? How do traffic lights change?"

"See that yellow box on the pole there? It holds a computer that is programmed to change the lights at certain times."

I have no idea if this is true. I don't care if this is true. I don't care about this at all.

"So, is there a person nearby?"

"No, it's a computer."

"Is there someone in the yellow box?"

"No, no. No people.  It's a computer."

"Oh, there's another one!"

"No, that's a donation bin, it just happens to be yellow.  They aren't all yellow. See, this one up here is gray."

"Oh.  And they are never smaller than that box?"

"I really don't know. I guess some might be smaller."

"And they are always yellow or gray?"

"Sweet baby Jesus please stop asking me questions."

"Fine," she says, full of hurt, "I'll ask daddy when we get home."

"Oh, please do."

We go to Target, and she is so excited about the yogurt that she trips and drops it.  She is so excited about seeing one of her friends there that she runs straight into our cart.  She's so excited about the Frozen nightgown she found that she falls over the foot of the rack.

At night, she demands we read her a book, every night, without fail.  On tired days, we would skip the book with the boys, but Lilly doesn't believe in being too tired for a book.

Baby Talk

Lilly and her cousin were playing together today. They were playing House - but this was apparently a sister wives household because there were no husbands to be seen and they referred to each other as "sister."  As in, "sister, go get the stroller for Baby."

Oh, yes, there were also babies. Babies who would never suffer at the hands of their parents the way these girls had.

"Sister, I tried to put Baby down for a nap, but she does not want to take a nap. And because we want to be kind to our baby, we would never make her take a nap if she doesn't want to, right?"

"Oh, absolutely, Sister.  And what should we make her for dinner? Because we love her and would only want her to have foods that she enjoys."

It was just, like, burn after burn on Parents who have Rules or Limits.



Later, Lilly was discussing family planning with me.

"Why doesn't Aunt Gail have kids?"

"I'm not sure, Lilly.  It's just the way her life went."

"Because her body wasn't healthy enough to have kids?"

Yes, that is exactly what I said.

"I don't think that was the reason, Lilly.  I think she just decided that she didn't want to have kids."

"Because she lives in Florida and they would always be begging to go to the beach?"

Yes, that is exactly what I said.

"She probably had some other reasons for not having kids. Also, she didn't always live in Florida."

I thought that would buy me a change in subject, but no.

"How did she not have kids?"

"She just don't have them," I respond, not wanting to discuss my aunt's potential forms of birth control.

"Did she take a pill?"

Goddamnit. Which one of you is having The Talk with Lilly?  Because either stop, or do a good enough job that she isn't coming to me with follow up questions.

"People can.  And sometimes people have to take pills to have a baby, but mostly it just happens for people and do you want to go eat a brownie?"

"Yes.  But I would prefer to get a baby because I am tired of being the only girl, and sleeping by myself."

The Little Things

"Mom?  Have you read The Giver?"

Sam recently finished this classic and had mentioned that he liked it.

"Yeah, I've read it."

"There was a part that I didn't like and it's been bothering me."

"Yeah?" That's a weird thing about Sam. When I read books that were beyond my maturity level, I was all, La La La, I'm reading a book, they just said a thing - who knows what it means!

"It was the part where they gave that baby the shot," he says.

Oh.  Yeah.  That part. The baby murder. Not my favorite, either.  But probably he just thinks they gave the baby a shot. That's what I would have thought when I was his age. And I don't think they ever actually said, straight out, and "then they killed the baby."

Owen pipes in, "what did they do?"

"They gave a baby a shot that hurt," I answer quickly, wanting to manage the situation.

"They gave the baby a shot that KILLED it," Sam corrects.

Situation, managed!

Also, so Sam did catch that.

So now Owen is just all hand flappy, "what is happening?! Why with the baby killing?! I don't understand!!"

And Sam is all, "right? It was really upsetting and I can't stop thinking about it and why do you think that dad would give me a book like that to read?"