Tea time

My mom says that before you can bring a baby home from the hospital for the first time, you need to go to the store and buy it a lot of things.  Which is why right after my mom and dad found out that they were going to have a baby girl, they went to the store to prepare for my arrival.

While my mom was contemplating the options for onesies, gowns, and burp cloths, my dad got down to business collecting the real essentials.  Most notably, a porcelain tea set with whimsical illustrations and french wording.

Today, five full years later, we finally took it out of the box. 

The inspiration came from an amazing tea party playdate this morning at my friend Lexi's, where her mom had prepared by baking brownies and tea cookies, carefully assembling peanut butter-and-jelly and cheese finger sandwiches and stocking up with feather boas and fine jewelry from the party store.  HEAVEN. 

As I ran into the house after the playdate, I asked my dad if he would get down the fancy tea set that's been sitting up in my closet since before I was born.  And not only did he oblige, but he dressed up with us and sat down for a spot of tea and the contents of our tea-cookie doggie bag that Lexi's mom sent home with us.

And as fancy ladies are wont to do, Rowan and I closed out the tea party by recreating in an empty box for an hour.

The cherry on top of the BEST. DAY. EVER.

First cut

At nine months, I went to the salon for my first haircut.  Although nine months seems early, I had a bit of a comb-over situation that needed to be addressed.  Unfortunately, it was addressed by a stylist whose idea of a good haircut was a bit more abstract than my mom's. 

Even my nanny at the time, ever chipper and optimistic, looked at my new do and said, "ohhhhh."  Which is how we knew it was REALLY bad.

Before

Aaaaaaah!fter

After months of strategically placed barrettes, my mom moved past the trauma of it all, although to this day, she's never looked at the 50+ pictures she took of The Incident, nor does she even remember where they're saved.

She vowed that any future sibling would not get their hair cut until they were 12.

Which would explain why, although she was born with a full head of hair, it took Rowan more than two-and-a-half years to get her hair cut for the first time.  Well, that and my mom was anticipating that it wouldn't be the type of activity Rowan would enjoy.

As is the case with many of my mom's theories and predictions, she was wrong.

The Pre-Game Interview

Uneasy rider

With a vocabulary of approximately seven trillion words, Rowan is usually pretty quick to tell you what's on her mind.  And oftentimes, she's demanding when it comes to getting what she wants to hear from others.

For instance, if you accidentally bump into Rowan, she'll demand you apologize.  And after you do, she'll pretend you didn't and ask you to apologize again.

Yesterday, she took a toy from a friend at school and loudly demanded, "Say 'thank you' to me!"

The kid's all about the manners.  What can I say?

But when it comes to amusement park rides, she hasn't a word to say about anything.

Monday morning, in between meeting Diego and eating a lunch of ice cream, jelly beans and pop, we went on every single ride at Santa's Village.  And while Rowan never seemed resistant to riding any of them, on every single one, she assumed the same position: death grip, head down, face completely devoid of emotion.

Was she scared? Nauseous? Indifferent?  We don't know and, for once, she ain't talkin'. 

Shortly before we headed home, Mom and Rowan discovered a kiddie car ride, which was the first time Rowan asked to ride anything again.  And again.

And again.

And then three more times after that.

My mom says this kind of enthusiasm for driving will make her significantly more nervous in about 14 years.

And good morning to YOU

If there's one thing you can count on from Rowan, it's the fact that she always wakes up in a good mood.   Guess when one side of your bed still has a three-foot gate (for purposes of nightly threats to "turn the bed around into a crib" for noncompliance), there's no side to wake up on except the right side.

Yesterday, Rowan's mood was exceptionally excellent, which caused her to break into song about sunshine before my mom could even clear the hair from her face, making two things completely clear:

1. Rowan is undebatably A Morning Person.
2. Her enthusiasm for life is only surpassed by her enthusiasm for her own singing.

Transcript:

Sun, Sun, Mr. Golden Sun,

Please shine down on me.

Mr. Sun, Sun, Mr. Golden Sun, 

Hiding high in a tree. 
(indiscernible)

Encore!  Encore!

Meet and freak

Yesterday morning, Rowan experienced her first celebrity sighting.  And while it wasn't what you might qualify as an overwhelming success, it did at least lack the screaming and terror of my first celebrity sighting.  (In my defense, Elmo looks a lot more loveable on TV.)

See, the issue with celebrities is that they tend to look totally different in person.  On TV, Diego is an outspoken little kid.  But in real life, he's seven feet tall and unnervingly quiet.  Which is perhaps why Rowan was so reluctant to hold his hand for a picture.

After testing the waters with a tentative high-five, Rowan agreed to lend him a few digits, only as long as my mom held onto the rest.