The Lunch Line

Last summer, my Nannie and I hit the wide open railroad for a little joy ride on the Metra.  This year, we invited Rowan along for the reunion tour.

Once again, we caught the train and headed a couple suburbs north for lunch and a visit to a toy store, where I discovered and promptly convinced my Nannie of the urgency behind needing to own the following doll:

And although Rowan was offered the same, she passed in favor of an Elmo doll that was the long lost twin of one she already has at home.  And startlingly similar to the SEVEN other Elmo dolls she also owns.  But unfortunately the only thing more deficient than Rowan's ability to appropriately assess her Elmo population is Nannie's ability to say "no" to something that we want.

And so a short while later, we headed back on the train with Strawberry and Elmo the Eighth, where we contemplated why so many adults gripe about riding the train every day.

Maybe they have Nannies who know how to say to "no."

Encore

As a new year of dance classes begins, nostalgia is running rampant through our house.  It started with the tap shoes that arrived in the mail last week.  Taking them out of the box, my mom was a bit overwhelmed by the fact that it was the first time that she had held a pair of tap shoes in her hands in nearly 30 years.  Which is truly remarkable, she says, since she's only 25.

And the excitement of wearing tap shoes was suddenly reborn in a whole new generation, as I danced around the laundry room, delighted by the sounds of my own magnificent coordination.  My first day of class was yesterday and every ounce as exciting as I thought it would be.

Today a different sort of nostalgia rushed over my mom as she dressed Rowan for her very first dance class.  A very deja vu kind of morning.

Me, almost two years ago to the day!

Rowan: The Debut

And as my mom asked Rowan to show off her best moves shortly before heading out the door for her first day in "Creative Movement," we had to wonder whether there's really anything left to teach her.

Another virgin

Lately I've been dedicating significant attention to identifying similarities and differences between people, objects and songs.  My mom thinks the fact that I announce that things are "similar" rather than "the same" bodes well for my 2024 SAT verbal scores.

As I continue to discover new and fancier ways of vocalizing various concepts, I have learned that two things that are very similar but slightly different can be called "different virgins."  And apparently my mom finds a lot of humor in this concept, because every time I mention it to her she laughs.

Belly laughs

Ever since hearing the news about the baby, I've been extremely interested in exactly how those doctors at the hospital plan to get it out of my mom's tummy.  I don't have any solid theories and, to be honest, I don't think my mom does either, because she keeps telling me that it's a secret they only tell doctors.

Apparently confusion surrounding this baby abounds, as evidenced by Rowan's comments at preschool circle time last week, which earned her quote-of-the-week in her class's weekly newsletter.

Quote of the week:

During circle time we introduced the children to their own spots on the rug-

Ms. Larisa to Rowan: "Rowan you will always be sitting next to Abby"

Rowan: "No my baby will sit next to me!"

Ms. Larisa: "Where is your baby?"

Rowan: "In my tummy and when she comes out she will sit next to me!!"

Home Improvements: The OTHER addition

Around the time we learned of the new playroom going in downstairs, Rowan and I received word of another significant addition to the house going in upstairs.

It has become clear over the past year as Rowan has been chatting up a storm and busying herself with books and coloring that she really isn't The Baby of our family anymore.  She's kind of outgrown her job responsibilities, so to speak, and so we're looking for someone new to fill the position.

As I'm rather particular about whom I spend my time with, I immediately sat down to draw up a list of thoughtful interview questions for interested candidates, including:

What's your philosophy on Beauty Sleep?  Myth or must?
Would your friends say you have a drooling problem?
Do you excrete any substances that may offend my delicate visual or olfactory senses?
Do you cry easily and/or without purpose?
What's your position on eating vegetables?  Would you be willing to eat someone else's vegetables as part of a covert operation?
Do you understand what it means to respect other people's property?
Do you enjoy roller coasters like The Demon?
Do you hug for sport?
Approximately how much room would you take up on an 89" sofa?

My interview preparations, however, came to an abrupt halt when I was informed that we've already committed to a candidate, sight unseen.

No interview.  No reference checks.

Heck, the kid's not even showing up for the job for SIX MORE MONTHS.

Sounds risky, but my parents have put together a pretty respectable organization so far.  I'm going to assume that they know what they're doing.

Here's to hoping this kid's a hugger.

Home Improvements: Week 1

There is a phenomenon that exists among young kids everywhere that we refer to as The Cardboard Box Theory.  It says that given a room full of brand new fancy electronics, dolls and action figures, a kid will inevitably find the most joy and amusement from the cardboard boxes they came in.

This theory supports why, according to both myself and Rowan, our unfinished basement qualifies as The Best Room in the House.  Although it's afforded us the opportunity to ride our bikes and play T-ball in the dead of winter, we still beg to use it even on the most glorious of summer days.

Something about the dank atmosphere and the anticipation of finding a bug behind every corner screams, "Excitement!"

 

And so my mom needed to break it to us delicately that The Old Stomping Ground would be closed indefinitely for renovation.  For unrequested luxuries, like drywall and can lights.  While I was ready to fight the good fight in the name of indoor baseball games, I conceded at the phrase "Brand New Playroom."

Because with two avid toy collectors and no useable walls for storage, all the STUFF in our playroom's been making it a bit difficult to...you know...play.
 

Pre-Rowan and before I NEEDED everything I didn't have.

And so a week-and-a-half ago, work got underway on our new playroom -- and a few other rooms, too. 

BEFORE: The Gym

BEFORE: The Guest Room/Bathroom

BEFORE: The Playroom

BEFORE: The Stairs

WEEK 1: The Bathroom

WEEK 1: The Gym

WEEK 1: The Gym

WEEK 1: The Playroom

Properly dressed

Since ice skating lessons began in May, I have had my sights set on one goal and one goal only.

And it was not learning to skate.

Rather, it was a red velvet skating dress hanging in the window of the shop at the ice skating rink.  And so a deal was struck: If I took ice skating lessons all summer long and wanted to continue in the fall, the dress would be mine.

And, alas, this week it was!  The fact that I was also promoted (again!) to the next level in skating school?  A very distant second.

The skating dress: GLAMOROUS!
The dressing room accommodations: Not so much. 

I wore the dress home from the rink and all the way til bedtime.