Three strangely dressed men with multiple earrings, approached Clara Grace and her baby brother in their shopping cart on the night of Sunday, August the twenty-sixth.
“Well, hello,” the group’s spokesman announced enthusiastically.
“Well, hello,” Clara Grace responded in the same exuberant manner.
The man was clearly taken aback at the tiny two-year-old’s vocal capabilities. “That was a very distinct hello,” he told her
“Yes, that was a stinky hello.” Clara Grace responded conversationally and then proceeded to pick her nose.
“Always say hello to new people you meet just like that,” the man with earrings admonished her gravely.
Clara Grace’s daddy interjected, “Yeah, but maybe she could do it without her finger in her nostril.”
The oddly dressed man shook his head and responded quizzically, “Oh no, I pick my nose all the time.”
Sunday, September 02, 2007
Defining Precious
Clara Grace had difficulty drifting off to sleep on the night of Tuesday, August the twenty-first. As her daddy left the room after asking her to close her eyes for the second time, he commented, “You’re precious.”
Clara Grace agreed, “I am precious. What’s precious, Daddy.”
Her daddy answered, “Precious means, ‘I love you. You mean a lot to me.’”
Clara Grace replied, “No, precious means, ‘I love you, but go to sleep.’”
Clara Grace agreed, “I am precious. What’s precious, Daddy.”
Her daddy answered, “Precious means, ‘I love you. You mean a lot to me.’”
Clara Grace replied, “No, precious means, ‘I love you, but go to sleep.’”
Clown fish and Angel Fish by Clara Grace; August 19, 2007
“I want my fire,” Clara Grace announced.
“I’ll get you a pacifier for bed if you tell me a story first,” her daddy replied.
“OK, I’ll tell you a story,” she said. “Once upon a time there was an angel fish and…what?”
“Um, a clown fish,” her daddy supplied.
Clara Grace nodded and then continued, “OK, clown fish. And clown fish heard a noise, and…what was it?”
“Boommm….Boommmm” her daddy answered in a low, quiet voice.
Clara Grace glanced up. Momentarily identifying with Clown fish’s dread. “It was thunder! Clown fish hide in the bushes.”
“Then what did clown fish do?” her daddy prompted curiously.
Clara Grace responded, ”Clown fish cried and cried.”
“Who made clown fish feel better?” her daddy asked.
“Angel fish.” Clara Grace replied. Naturally, this answer came as a bit of a surprise seeing as how angel fish have so often played the role of thunder in previous stories, But there could be no mistake to the character’s change in status as Clara Grace forged ahead with her tale, “Angel fish said, ‘Be quiet’.”
After a dramatic pause, her daddy insisted, “Then what happened?”
Clara Grace answered sadly, “The thunder hurt clown fish.”
“The thunder hurt clown fish!?” Daddy repeated. “How did the thunder hurt clown fish?”
“The thunder just hurt clown fish,” Clara said simply. “Angel fish said, ‘You want Tylenol?’ Clown fish said, ‘I don’t want Tylenol.’ Angel fish said, ‘You’re being silly. Do you want Tylenol?’ Clown fish said, ‘I want Tylenol.’ The end.”
“I’ll get you a pacifier for bed if you tell me a story first,” her daddy replied.
“OK, I’ll tell you a story,” she said. “Once upon a time there was an angel fish and…what?”
“Um, a clown fish,” her daddy supplied.
Clara Grace nodded and then continued, “OK, clown fish. And clown fish heard a noise, and…what was it?”
“Boommm….Boommmm” her daddy answered in a low, quiet voice.
Clara Grace glanced up. Momentarily identifying with Clown fish’s dread. “It was thunder! Clown fish hide in the bushes.”
“Then what did clown fish do?” her daddy prompted curiously.
Clara Grace responded, ”Clown fish cried and cried.”
“Who made clown fish feel better?” her daddy asked.
“Angel fish.” Clara Grace replied. Naturally, this answer came as a bit of a surprise seeing as how angel fish have so often played the role of thunder in previous stories, But there could be no mistake to the character’s change in status as Clara Grace forged ahead with her tale, “Angel fish said, ‘Be quiet’.”
After a dramatic pause, her daddy insisted, “Then what happened?”
Clara Grace answered sadly, “The thunder hurt clown fish.”
“The thunder hurt clown fish!?” Daddy repeated. “How did the thunder hurt clown fish?”
“The thunder just hurt clown fish,” Clara said simply. “Angel fish said, ‘You want Tylenol?’ Clown fish said, ‘I don’t want Tylenol.’ Angel fish said, ‘You’re being silly. Do you want Tylenol?’ Clown fish said, ‘I want Tylenol.’ The end.”
Just Like Mommy
After Clara Grace’s her daddy buckled her into the car seat for a run to the grocery store on Saturday, July the twenty-eigth, she filled the ride to the supormarket with polite and engaging chatter. Her daddy complimented her, “You’re smart,”
“I am smart,” Clara Grace agreed.
“You’re pretty too,” her daddy remarked.
“I’m so pretty,” Clara Grace confirmed.
“And you’re funny,” her daddy admired.
Clara Grace laughed and answered, “Yes, I’m very funny.
“You’re also nice, you know,” her daddy concluded.
“Yes I am,” his daughter acknowledged matter-of-factly. “I’m just like mommy.”
Her daddy smiled then inquired, “You mean you’re like mommy because she’s smart and pretty and funny and nice?”
“Yes she is,” Clara Grace replied.
“So, is your brother, Everett, like Daddy?” he probed further.
“No,” the little girl answered thoughtfully. “Everett is like Everett, Daddy is like Daddy, but I am just like Mommy.”
“I am smart,” Clara Grace agreed.
“You’re pretty too,” her daddy remarked.
“I’m so pretty,” Clara Grace confirmed.
“And you’re funny,” her daddy admired.
Clara Grace laughed and answered, “Yes, I’m very funny.
“You’re also nice, you know,” her daddy concluded.
“Yes I am,” his daughter acknowledged matter-of-factly. “I’m just like mommy.”
Her daddy smiled then inquired, “You mean you’re like mommy because she’s smart and pretty and funny and nice?”
“Yes she is,” Clara Grace replied.
“So, is your brother, Everett, like Daddy?” he probed further.
“No,” the little girl answered thoughtfully. “Everett is like Everett, Daddy is like Daddy, but I am just like Mommy.”
Problem and Solution
On Saturday, July the twenty-eighth, Clara Grace asked for three animal crackers from her car seat. Not long after, she requested three more. About that same time, her baby brother, Everett, started crying in his car seat.
Clara Grace’s daddy asked her, “Do you think Everett wants a cracker?”
Clara Grace answered confidently, “No he doesn’t want an animal cracker. Stop crying Everett.”
Curiously, her daddy angled his rear view mirror and caught sight of his little girl tossing bits of dismembered animals into Everett’s car seat.
Clara Grace glanced at her daddy’s eyes trained on her in the mirror and employed a hasty change of tactics. She reached out and patted her brother’s seat while cooing consciously, “Oh, Everett, it’s okay. Don’t cry. It’s all right.” Once she felt a sufficient show had been made, she requested, “Turn off the mirror now, Daddy.”
Clara Grace’s daddy asked her, “Do you think Everett wants a cracker?”
Clara Grace answered confidently, “No he doesn’t want an animal cracker. Stop crying Everett.”
Curiously, her daddy angled his rear view mirror and caught sight of his little girl tossing bits of dismembered animals into Everett’s car seat.
Clara Grace glanced at her daddy’s eyes trained on her in the mirror and employed a hasty change of tactics. She reached out and patted her brother’s seat while cooing consciously, “Oh, Everett, it’s okay. Don’t cry. It’s all right.” Once she felt a sufficient show had been made, she requested, “Turn off the mirror now, Daddy.”
Clara Grace’s daddy took her to visit the kayak store on Friday, July the twentieth. After staring longingly at the boats of various shapes and colors her daddy asked the store’s owner to put him on the mailing list in order to receive e-mails whenever sales came around.
Clara Grace announced, “I want e-mails.”
Her daddy answered, "You can read mine.”
Clearly unsatisfied, Clara Grace decided to try her luck with the store owner instead. And here, Clara Grace told her very first fib, “Write me, I’m three.”
As she walked out of the store hand in hand with her daddy, Clara Grace remarked, “I have to go check my e-mail.”
Clara Grace announced, “I want e-mails.”
Her daddy answered, "You can read mine.”
Clearly unsatisfied, Clara Grace decided to try her luck with the store owner instead. And here, Clara Grace told her very first fib, “Write me, I’m three.”
As she walked out of the store hand in hand with her daddy, Clara Grace remarked, “I have to go check my e-mail.”
Oh, Grow Up
Clara Grace’s Aunt Amy amused herself by pestering her niece on the afternoon of Wednesday, July the eleventh. Aunt Amy teased the little girl without mercy while the two kept occupied in the waiting room at the doctor’s office. In an extreme show of courtesy for a two-year-old, Clara Grace endured as long as she could then suggested in veiled frustration, “Get a toy, Amy.”
Cococokjin
On the evening of Friday, July the sixth, Clara Grace’s mommy asked the family, “What do you want me to make for dinner?”
Clara Grace replied without a second’s thought, “Cococokjin.”
Her mommy hesitated then inquired, “How do you make that?”
Clara Grace explained patiently, “With a stove.”
Clara Grace replied without a second’s thought, “Cococokjin.”
Her mommy hesitated then inquired, “How do you make that?”
Clara Grace explained patiently, “With a stove.”
Pay Attention
Thursday, June the twenty-eighth, Clara Grace announced proudly, “Daddy, I have something for you.” Her daddy held out his hand and Clara Grace placed an imaginary something into his palm. Not quite sure what to do with the “something,” her daddy popped it into his mouth and chewed. “No!” Clara Grace responded with evident shock and disappointment. “You’re not supposed to eat it.”
“Ooops,” her daddy said and spit the something back into his hand.
“Oh, you’ve ruined it,” Clara Grace declared in dismay. Then, after a momentary reluctance, the little girl relented and pinched another imaginary bit from the air. “Here’s a new something.”
“Ooops,” her daddy said and spit the something back into his hand.
“Oh, you’ve ruined it,” Clara Grace declared in dismay. Then, after a momentary reluctance, the little girl relented and pinched another imaginary bit from the air. “Here’s a new something.”
A Good Deal
On Wednesday, June the twenty-eighth, during a vacation to visit her grandparents in Michigan, Clara Grace munched happily on a decorated cookie from her Nanna,. Her grandpa asked if she wanted any help eating the cookie. Clara Grace responded that she had the situation under control and then asked for a drink of milk. Her grandpa seized the moment of weakness and offered a barter, “A drink will cost you a bite of that cookie.” Clara Grace seemed to have no problem with this arrangement. She accepted the cup of milk and then obligingly took a bite.
Neglected
Clara Grace’s daddy whisked her away on an early morning shopping trip Friday, June the thirtieth. Daddy made the quick decision to take her to the store in her pajamas in his haste to get her out the door. He was considerately allowing her mommy a little more sleep after a long night with teething baby Everett. Clara Grace rode quietly in the shopping cart down the isles of food, housewares, and toys, but when the buggy entered the clothing department, she announced in a loud voice, “Daddy, buy me some clothes. I’m in my pajamas. You need to pay for some clothes for me.”
A New Twist on an Old Tale
Clara Grace’s baby brother wailed in his high chair on the morning of Friday, June the twenty-second while his mommy scrambled to throw breakfast together. Clara Grace stood near the inconsolable boy and recited an appropriate line from a favorite bedtime story to cheer him up, “Little pig, little pig, let me out.”
After a moment, Clara Grace realized she had made a joke and called into the kitchen, “Mommy, that was funny. I said, Little pig, little pig let me out.”
After a moment, Clara Grace realized she had made a joke and called into the kitchen, “Mommy, that was funny. I said, Little pig, little pig let me out.”
Hey!
After a visit to the zoo on Saturday, June the sixteenth, Clara Grace announced, “I pet a sheep.
Her mommy answered, “Yes you did. That was a baby sheep which is called a lamb.”
Clara Grace remarked, “I like lambs. Do you like lambs Mommy?”
Her mommy responded, “Yes, I do like lambs.”
Clara Grace inquired, “Do you like lambs, Daddy?”
Her daddy answered, “Yes I do like lambs, especially with a nice mint jelly.”
Clara Grace’s mommy punched him in the shoulder for his callous and insensitive response.
“No mommy!” Clara Grace intervened.
“That’s right, Clara Grace, you tell her,” daddy cheered.
“I want to get him,” Clara Grace explained.
Her mommy answered, “Yes you did. That was a baby sheep which is called a lamb.”
Clara Grace remarked, “I like lambs. Do you like lambs Mommy?”
Her mommy responded, “Yes, I do like lambs.”
Clara Grace inquired, “Do you like lambs, Daddy?”
Her daddy answered, “Yes I do like lambs, especially with a nice mint jelly.”
Clara Grace’s mommy punched him in the shoulder for his callous and insensitive response.
“No mommy!” Clara Grace intervened.
“That’s right, Clara Grace, you tell her,” daddy cheered.
“I want to get him,” Clara Grace explained.
It's Hard to Keep Up
While breakfast was being served on the morning of Saturday, June the sixteenth, Clara Grace asked her mommy for a white top on her sippy cup to match her white milk. “We don’t have any white lids,” her mommy replied, “but you have white pajamas to match your white milk right?”
Next, Clara Grace requested a white napkin. Her daddy smiled and asked her, “Do you want a white napkin because you spilled your white milk or your white yogurt on your white pajamas?”
Clara Grace responded matter-of-factly, “No, it’s because napkins are white.”
Next, Clara Grace requested a white napkin. Her daddy smiled and asked her, “Do you want a white napkin because you spilled your white milk or your white yogurt on your white pajamas?”
Clara Grace responded matter-of-factly, “No, it’s because napkins are white.”
7 Letters and a Star
Clara Grace dangled from the handle of a WAL*MART shopping cart during an afternoon trip to the store on Friday, June the fifteenth,. From this vantage point, she was presented with an excellent view of the store’s printed name. After a moment, she announced proudly, “Seven letters and a star.”
Another Story by Clara Grace
Sunday, April the thirtieth, Clara Grace’s daddy tucked her into bed and told a story. He began with the time-honored introduction “Once upon a time, there was an…”
“Alligator,” the little girl interjected.
“Okay,” her daddy obliged, “there was an alligator named--”
“Clara Grace,” his daughter supplied.
“Okay,” her daddy continued, “and Clara Grace the alligator like to swim down the river and…”
“Bite!” Clara Grace interrupted decidedly.
“Hmm,” her daddy went on a little unsure as to where the story was headed. “Okay, so, Clara Grace the alligator like to bite—“
“Angelfish,” Clara Grace finished quickly looking up at her arch nemesis on the wall.
“Angelfish and flies,” she added as she remember the pesky insects which had only recently begun to pester her outdoors.
“Does Clara Grace like to bite turtle or stingray??” her daddy asked in clarification.
“No,” the little girl answered definitely, “just angelfish and flies.”
“Alligator,” the little girl interjected.
“Okay,” her daddy obliged, “there was an alligator named--”
“Clara Grace,” his daughter supplied.
“Okay,” her daddy continued, “and Clara Grace the alligator like to swim down the river and…”
“Bite!” Clara Grace interrupted decidedly.
“Hmm,” her daddy went on a little unsure as to where the story was headed. “Okay, so, Clara Grace the alligator like to bite—“
“Angelfish,” Clara Grace finished quickly looking up at her arch nemesis on the wall.
“Angelfish and flies,” she added as she remember the pesky insects which had only recently begun to pester her outdoors.
“Does Clara Grace like to bite turtle or stingray??” her daddy asked in clarification.
“No,” the little girl answered definitely, “just angelfish and flies.”
Bad Breath
Clara Grace developed a severe case of pink eye on the night of Friday, April the twenty-first. The little girl began showing symptoms after any doctor’s office was closed, and awoke in the middle of the night with painfully swollen eyes. So, while her mommy remained at home with baby Everett, Clara Grace and her daddy made a midnight run to the hospital. To keep his daughter occupied in the waiting room, Clara Grace’s daddy began to tell her a rambling story. Not far into the tale however, the little girl pulled away from her daddy’s face and said, “Daddy stop talking. Daddy’s talking goes in my nose.”
“Sorry if I didn’t take time to brush my teeth before trucking you to the emergency room,” her daddy replied wryly and then put his hands behind his head and leaned back to rest.
Clara Grace squeezed toward the opposite side of her chair and instructed, “Daddy put arms down. Daddy’s arms go in my nose.”
“Sorry if I didn’t take time to brush my teeth before trucking you to the emergency room,” her daddy replied wryly and then put his hands behind his head and leaned back to rest.
Clara Grace squeezed toward the opposite side of her chair and instructed, “Daddy put arms down. Daddy’s arms go in my nose.”
Scientific Explanation
Clara Grace’s daddy carried his daughter to the car before sunrise Monday, April the seventeenth. The sleepy toddler lifted her head from her daddy’s chest in consternation at the sound of his beating heart and commented, “Daddy ate a drum.”
Blameless
Clara Grace and her mommy walked down the road on a sunny April afternoon. “Ooops, my bad,” Clara Grace’s mommy apologized as her shoe snagged the back of her daughter’s sandal.
Clara Grace replied disapprovingly, “No mommy, that was your shoe.”
Clara Grace replied disapprovingly, “No mommy, that was your shoe.”
Blame
Clara Grace bounced her rubber ball a bit too enthusiastically on the afternoon of Friday, April the thirteenth. When the ball rebounded onto the glass pains of the French doors, her mommy called, “Clara Grace, I told you not to bounce that ball so hard.”
The little girl answered in complete candor, “Mommy, floor did it.”
The little girl answered in complete candor, “Mommy, floor did it.”
Everything's Relative
Clara Grace’s daddy looked over his shoulder as he left the nursery Saturday evening, March the thirty-first. “Let’s eat dinner, Curley-Head,” he called to his little girl.
“Okay, Big-Back,” Clara Grace replied without hesitation.
“Okay, Big-Back,” Clara Grace replied without hesitation.
Imitation is the Worst Form of Flattery
Clara Grace picked up her ukulele to join in a practice session with her mommy who was still struggling with the new guitar she’d received for Christmas. The little girl decided to play along and started in on the new song she’d heard her mommy butchering for the last fifteen minutes. Clara Grace strummed the ukulele and sang proudly, “I’ve been working on the-oh rats--railroad, all the live-long--darn it--day.”
The Girl and the Alligator by Clara Grace Paulson
On the evening of March the twenty-ninth, 2007, Clara Grace and her parents went to the mall for a little non-pollinated exercise. Clara Grace ran straight for the fountain, so her Daddy gave her three pennies to throw in the water. After her coins were all submerged, Clara Grace sat on the nearby bench and her daddy said, “Tell me a story.”
“OK”, Clara Grace said and paused to think.
“Once upon a time…” her daddy prompted.
“I’ll do it. I’ll do it,” Clara Grace interrupted. “Once upon time, there was little girl in fountain. She say, ‘I want some money!’ Alligator say, ‘I get money! Touch my head.’”
Clara Grace’s daddy waited in suspense, but when no more of his daughter’s tale seemed forthcoming, he prompted again, ““And the little girl said…”
Clara Grace took up her yarn once more revealing how the wise maiden by the fountain answered the cunning alligator. “The little girl say, ‘NO! Bite my hand!’”
“OK”, Clara Grace said and paused to think.
“Once upon a time…” her daddy prompted.
“I’ll do it. I’ll do it,” Clara Grace interrupted. “Once upon time, there was little girl in fountain. She say, ‘I want some money!’ Alligator say, ‘I get money! Touch my head.’”
Clara Grace’s daddy waited in suspense, but when no more of his daughter’s tale seemed forthcoming, he prompted again, ““And the little girl said…”
Clara Grace took up her yarn once more revealing how the wise maiden by the fountain answered the cunning alligator. “The little girl say, ‘NO! Bite my hand!’”
Talented
On Monday, March the nineteenth Clara Grace fell off her swing several times. Finally, her daddy teased, “Do you like falling off the swing?”
Clara Grace answered, “No.” but then added, “I’m good at it.”
Clara Grace answered, “No.” but then added, “I’m good at it.”
One
When Clara Grace’s first tube of toothpaste was squeezed dry sometime in early March, she received her first education in the mass marketing of products designed to appeal to her age. As her shopping cart rolled down the toothpaste isle, her Daddy asked, “Which tube do you want, the car toothpaste, the elephant toothpaste, the superman toothpaste, the horse toothpaste, the cat toothpaste, or the Elmo toothpaste?”
Clara Grace replied, “I want the elephant.” Two isles away however, she experienced sudden buyer’s remorse and told her daddy, “I want the car.” They wound their way back to the hundreds of toothpaste tubes and her Daddy picked up one with a red racecar.
The only problem at that point, was that Clara Grace did not wish to relinquish her elephant tube in exchange.
“You can only have one,” her daddy told her.
Clara Grace thought for a moment and then answered with her usual astounding logic, “I want one car, one elephant, one superman, one horse, one cat, and one Elmo.”
Clara Grace replied, “I want the elephant.” Two isles away however, she experienced sudden buyer’s remorse and told her daddy, “I want the car.” They wound their way back to the hundreds of toothpaste tubes and her Daddy picked up one with a red racecar.
The only problem at that point, was that Clara Grace did not wish to relinquish her elephant tube in exchange.
“You can only have one,” her daddy told her.
Clara Grace thought for a moment and then answered with her usual astounding logic, “I want one car, one elephant, one superman, one horse, one cat, and one Elmo.”
An Ear for Talent
While riding in the shopping cart with her Daddy in early March, Clara Grace requested, “Daddy sing Everett song.” Eager to oblige, her Daddy began an impromptu song about her new, little brother. Before the song had even gotten off the ground however, Clara Grace interrupted, “No, sing Everett taking a bath song.” Not one to fluster easily, her daddy began another off the cuff performance pertaining to the last night’s splishing and slashing in the bathtub. After one or two bars though, Clara Grace stopped him once again, “Um, I like mommy singing.”
Doesn't Work as Well Both Ways
As Clara Grace’s mommy helped her put on her pajamas one morning in early March, the little girl groped helpfully to find the hole for her head. As she worked, she commented to herself, “Where’s my head? Where’s my head?” And as she popped through the opening she exclaimed triumphantly, “Oh, there’s my head!”
Weird, but Articulate
Families often adopt odd ways children express things as a sort of private language and inside joke. One of the very first of these to catch on for Clara Grace’s family came about as the little girl attempted to express the phenomenon of an unpleasant aroma. Her Daddy halted work on the car in order to change his daughter’s diaper. Though he dutifully washed his hands, a pungent odor of gasoline still remained. After a moment of introspection, Clara Grace said, “Daddy’s hands funny. Stink goes in my nose.”
Lip Reading
On Valentine’s Day, Clara Grace’s daddy received a fishbowl full of candy hearts surrounding a cup of flowers in the center from his adoring students. Long after the flowers had faded, Clara Grace’s mommy was still doling out the candy hearts for potty training rewards. Often, she would also ask her little girl what letters were in the message on the front of the heart. Without thinking, Clara Grace popped a candy into her mouth on Sunday, March the fourth, before glancing at the words on front. “Hey,” her daddy protested, “What did that heart say?” Clara Grace quickly examined the dissolving candy with the tip of her tongue and reported, “Says, A, B, C.”
Get a Job
Clara Grace surprised her mommy on Thursday, March the first with the sudden declaration, “I need a job.” Once her mommy figured out that the little girl wasn’t requesting nine to five employment, she surmised that Clara Grace must be wanting some task to perform. “Will you take this shirt to the dirty clothes?” she asked. Clara Grace cheerfully complied. Much to her mommy’s amazement and delight, In the days that followed, the little girl continued to request to be helpful.
Anatomically Correct Diagnosis
“Ow!” Clara Grace announced and stared down at her foot. “My piggies hurt.” Knowing this was code for his daughter’s toes, her daddy massaged the pajama footie lightly then blew her foot a tiny kiss. The little girl acknowledged that this had done some good and began to walk around her room with renewed vigor. “Ow!” she called again, “My arch hurts. Check my arch.” Possibly, this was one of the first truly useful occasions for all the anatomical vocabulary her grandma had taught her during the past several days. Clara Grace’s daddy decided to inspect more closely. Sure enough, a tiny object was stuck to the little girl’s foot and rolling around in the bottom of her footie.
Another Achievement
Clara Grace was quietly building with her legos on waking up from her nap Monday, February the twenty-sixth. When her daddy heard her bustling around the room at last, he opened the door and was met by his very excited daughter. “Look at that, Daddy,” Clara Grace commanded. She was pointing toward her tiny table on which three rectangular legos were set out in a perfect line. “I made a train block.” At that, she ran from the room and found her mommy in the kitchen. With extremely urgency, Clara Grace pulled her mommy toward the nursery and said, “Come in, mommy. Come in, Mommy. Look at that. It’s a train block.”
Little Miss Know-it-All
Clara Grace was not even two and a half years old before beginning the life-long task of correcting her daddy’s grammar. “I see an airplane,” she announced gazing toward the sky.
“I see an airplane,” her daddy agreed.”
“I see an airplane TOO, daddy,” Clara Grace admonished with particular emphasis on her daddy’s omitted word. Fri Feb 23 corrected Daddy’s grammar “I see the sun too, Daddy.”
“I see an airplane,” her daddy agreed.”
“I see an airplane TOO, daddy,” Clara Grace admonished with particular emphasis on her daddy’s omitted word. Fri Feb 23 corrected Daddy’s grammar “I see the sun too, Daddy.”
Thankful for Euphemisms!!!
On Saturday, February the seventeenth Clara Grace stepped into the cruise boat’s glass elevator. She peered through the translucent wall at a very animated woman playing the piano. As the elevator rose toward the upper decks, the woman’s low-cut dress became more and more apparent. Clara Grace grew excited and announced to the entire elevator, “Look, she has Feeding Everetts!” Fortunately, only direct family was able to decode her meaning.
Just Bring Me the Menu
Aboard the cruise ship Ecstasy, on the morning of Friday, February the sixteenth, Clara Grace was told she could order anything she liked for breakfast. “What are you going to eat this morning?” her daddy asked as they strolled under the beautiful ocean sunrise.
“I want eggs,” Clara Grace began thoughtfully. “And oatmeal, and some yogurt, and bacon, and a banana, and potatoes.” She considered this for a moment then added, “That’s a lot of food, Daddy.”
“I want eggs,” Clara Grace began thoughtfully. “And oatmeal, and some yogurt, and bacon, and a banana, and potatoes.” She considered this for a moment then added, “That’s a lot of food, Daddy.”
Inherited Taste
Clara Grace and her daddy took a trip to the hardware store on the evening of Monday, February the fifth. As her daddy unbuckled her car seat he couldn’t help but notice his daughter’s fascination with an enormous pick-up truck parked in the space beside them. “That’s an orange truck,” she announced enviously.
“Yes it is,” Clara Grace’s daddy agreed also admiring the old 76 Chevy.
“What’s that truck have Daddy? Clara Grace asked him.
Her daddy observed the patches of bondo and rust covering the exterior and couldn’t think of much that the vehicle had going for it. “I don’t know,” he answered.
“That truck has spots,” Clara Grace informed him excitedly.
By this time the burly owner of the orange truck was on his way out of the hardware store. Clara Grace watched him open his heavy door then called, “I like that truck!”
Surprised, the man turned and told her, “Well, you can have it for thirty five cents.”
“Yes it is,” Clara Grace’s daddy agreed also admiring the old 76 Chevy.
“What’s that truck have Daddy? Clara Grace asked him.
Her daddy observed the patches of bondo and rust covering the exterior and couldn’t think of much that the vehicle had going for it. “I don’t know,” he answered.
“That truck has spots,” Clara Grace informed him excitedly.
By this time the burly owner of the orange truck was on his way out of the hardware store. Clara Grace watched him open his heavy door then called, “I like that truck!”
Surprised, the man turned and told her, “Well, you can have it for thirty five cents.”
Beaver Fever
Clara Grace woke up with a fever in the middle of the night Monday, January the twenty-ninth. Her mommy rocked her on her lap and wiped a cool washcloth across her warm face. “Cold washcloth,” Clara Grace announced groggily.
“I know,” her mommy answered. Your head is too hot because of the fever so we need to make it feel good with this cold washcloth.”
“I have a beaver on my head,” Clara Grace mused curiously.
“I know,” her mommy answered. Your head is too hot because of the fever so we need to make it feel good with this cold washcloth.”
“I have a beaver on my head,” Clara Grace mused curiously.
The New Entertainer
While Clara Grace’s mommy and daddy scrambled to get ready for church on the morning of Sunday, January the twenty-first, she decided to help out with her unhappy baby brother. She knelt beside his bouncer and soothed in a very motherly tone, “Shhh, don’t cry Everett. What’s the matter Everett?” When the baby had quieted down enough to enjoy a performance she launched into her rendition of Old MacDonald, which went something like, “Old MacDonald had a farm Moo here, Moo there, Moo here, Moo there.” By this time, Everett was smiling happily so Clara Grace tried out some of her grandma’s favorite games on him. “Little man, little man, little man,” she sing-songed as she playfully walked her two fingers up his tummy. “Spider, spider, spider,” she continued as her wriggling fingers danced on the top of Everett’s head.
Such A Good Girl
In January Clara Grace made her mommy’s day by taking a bite of her vegetable hash brown casserole and announcing, “I like this food, mommy.”
Let Them Eat Cake
Ever since her birthday party in October, Clara Grace had been quite enamored with birthday cake, and the last three months of the year proved to provide quite a plentiful supply. She partook with her cousin and Granddad in October, and with her Aunt Ginger, mommy, daddy and Grandpa in December. On the rare occasions when actual cake was unavailable, Clara Grace began her exploration into the realm of the imaginary. On Friday, December the twenty-ninth, she reached up with all her fingers and pushed them into her mommy’s mouth. “What are you doing?” her mommy asked curiously.
“Some party cake for you,” Clara Grace announced generously then helped herself to an invisible bite.
“Some party cake for you,” Clara Grace announced generously then helped herself to an invisible bite.
I Live in a Gingerbread House
During her third Christmas, Clara Grace had been somewhat inundated with gingerbread houses. She had made one with her mommy artfully placing shredded wheat shingles on the roof and stealing gumdrop bushes. Then, her nana helped her construct one of graham crackers in Michigan. While taking a bath on Thursday, December the twenty-eighth, Clara Grace began pounding on the bathroom wall with her fists. After this peculiar ritual she began pinching the spot she had buffeted and then bringing her fingers to her mouth.
“What are you doing?” Clara Grace’s daddy had to ask.
“I’m eating the house,” Clara Grace informed him matter-of-factly.
“You’re eating the gingerbread house?” her daddy inquired.
“No, this house,” she told him. “I’m smashing it with a hammer and eating it.”
“What are you doing?” Clara Grace’s daddy had to ask.
“I’m eating the house,” Clara Grace informed him matter-of-factly.
“You’re eating the gingerbread house?” her daddy inquired.
“No, this house,” she told him. “I’m smashing it with a hammer and eating it.”
Waitress!
Clara Grace and her family enjoyed a meal out on Wednesday, December the thirteenth. The little girl shoveled down an adult’s portion of macaroni and cheese, a piece of Texas toast, her side order of broccoli, some of her mommy’s nachos, and a bite or two of her daddy’s baked potato. As her mommy and daddy were contemplating whether or not they could stand after the enormous meal, Clara Grace was waving after a passing waitress and requested, “Ice cream, want some ice cream please.”
Too Much Info
“I have to go potty,” Clara Grace announced on Saturday, December the ninth. Once on the toilet she told her daddy, “Want to poop, no, want to pee.” And then, amazingly, she did. Of course, her mommy and daddy made quite a fuss over the little girl’s new milestone. On Tuesday, December the twelfth, Clara Grace again asked to be seated on the potty. “Want to poop,” she told her mommy. “Want to pee, want to poop more, want to pee more, want to poop more, want to pee more.” And believe it or not, she did all of that.
The Logical Sequence
Clara Grace and her family decorated their first gingerbread house on Thursday, December the seventh. Though Clara Grace was integral to the house’s construction, she did ten to eat more than she built. When the final product complete with frosty shingled roof, latticed windows, snow covered bushes and pine tree, stood before them in all its glory, Clara Grace’s first response was, “I want some milk please.”
Good Sense
On Saturday, December the second, Clara Grace and her daddy both stood with jaws dropped by the front door in complete awe of a starling migration. The lawn was black with the swarming birds and their clicking and chatter was a cacophony. “Lot’s of birds!” Clara Grace announced. Then, as if on cue, there was a thunderous sound of wings and the entire flock swarmed to the next yard. “I’ve never seen anything like that,” Clara Grace’s daddy commented in wonder. “Never seen like that.” Clara Grace agreed.
You're as Pretty as a...
Clara Grace’s mommy was slightly flattered when her tiny daughter ran a hand through her hair and announced, “Mommy pretty.” She wondered if her feelings of pride had been a bit premature though on Friday, December the first, when she and Clara Grace sat on the floor playing with a nativity set. “Donkey have pretty ears,” Clara Grace announced in admiration.
What Do Angelfish Say?
When Clara Grace was only around eighteen months old, she witnessed a violent thunderstorm. She refrained from crying or screaming but did run to mommy with the request, “Thunder, hug.” Every night that week, heat thunder rippled through the sky and shook Clara Grace’s house while she slept. Each morning, she greeted her mommy with the excited announcement “Under, boom, boom!” Clara Grace’s mommy was slightly puzzled at how nonchalantly her daughter was taking the resounding rumbles. When the storms finally receded, the little girl continued to greet her mommy each morning with more news about thunder.
Whenever her parents commented, “I didn’t hear any thunder last night,” she pointed and repeated “Under!” vehemently. Finally, her daddy looked where she was pointing and noticed his colorful paintings of sea life on the walls. “Oh, you mean underwater,” he announced. “Yes, the fish are underwater.” Clara Grace continued to include “Under” in her morning discussions at least once each week. As her vocabulary grew, she commented, “Under, fish underwater.” It puzzled her mommy that even though the little girl could clearly say “Underwater, and used it appropriately at the aquarium and in the bathtub, she continued to refer to “Under” in the mornings.
Finally, more than six months later, on the morning of November the twenty-second, she met Clara Grace bouncing in her crib. “Thunder, thunder,” the little girl clearly announced during her mattress exercise routine.
Clara Grace’s mommy was befuddled, there had not been a thunderstorm for weeks and her daughter was obviously pointing out something on the wall. “Where is the thunder?” she asked Clara Grace. “Show me the thunder.” Clara Grace obligingly directed her toward a dark blue angelfish swimming on the wall opposite the crib. “This is thunder?” her mommy asked in disbelief. She picked her daughter up and brought her closer to the beautiful fish.
“Woah!” Clara Grace laughed nervously, “Funny fish, funny thunder.” Pronouncing things as “funny” had become the little girl’s way of expressing mild distrust.
“That’s a nice fish,” her mommy tried to explain. “It’s an angelfish. Do you want to pat the angelfish?” Clara Grace patted the seahorse, octopus, turtle, discus fish, and even the stingray above her rocking chair, but declined to touch the “funny thunder fish.”
After a few moments though, she summoned all her courage and reached out to stroke the angelfish lightly. “Angelfish hurt you?” she asked her mommy tentatively.
“No,” her mommy reassured her, “the angelfish won’t hurt you. The angelfish is nice.”
By the middle of December, Clara Grace was asking to pat the “nice angelfish” regularly. However, despite all her mommy’s explanations, a slight misconception prevailed. During a diaper change on Wednesday, December the fourteenth, Clara Grace asked her mommy, “What ladybug say?”
“Ladybugs don’t say anything,” her mommy informed. “They’re very quiet guys.”
Clara Grace mulled this over then added to the conversation, “Fish say ‘Boom, boom!”
Whenever her parents commented, “I didn’t hear any thunder last night,” she pointed and repeated “Under!” vehemently. Finally, her daddy looked where she was pointing and noticed his colorful paintings of sea life on the walls. “Oh, you mean underwater,” he announced. “Yes, the fish are underwater.” Clara Grace continued to include “Under” in her morning discussions at least once each week. As her vocabulary grew, she commented, “Under, fish underwater.” It puzzled her mommy that even though the little girl could clearly say “Underwater, and used it appropriately at the aquarium and in the bathtub, she continued to refer to “Under” in the mornings.
Finally, more than six months later, on the morning of November the twenty-second, she met Clara Grace bouncing in her crib. “Thunder, thunder,” the little girl clearly announced during her mattress exercise routine.
Clara Grace’s mommy was befuddled, there had not been a thunderstorm for weeks and her daughter was obviously pointing out something on the wall. “Where is the thunder?” she asked Clara Grace. “Show me the thunder.” Clara Grace obligingly directed her toward a dark blue angelfish swimming on the wall opposite the crib. “This is thunder?” her mommy asked in disbelief. She picked her daughter up and brought her closer to the beautiful fish.
“Woah!” Clara Grace laughed nervously, “Funny fish, funny thunder.” Pronouncing things as “funny” had become the little girl’s way of expressing mild distrust.
“That’s a nice fish,” her mommy tried to explain. “It’s an angelfish. Do you want to pat the angelfish?” Clara Grace patted the seahorse, octopus, turtle, discus fish, and even the stingray above her rocking chair, but declined to touch the “funny thunder fish.”
After a few moments though, she summoned all her courage and reached out to stroke the angelfish lightly. “Angelfish hurt you?” she asked her mommy tentatively.
“No,” her mommy reassured her, “the angelfish won’t hurt you. The angelfish is nice.”
By the middle of December, Clara Grace was asking to pat the “nice angelfish” regularly. However, despite all her mommy’s explanations, a slight misconception prevailed. During a diaper change on Wednesday, December the fourteenth, Clara Grace asked her mommy, “What ladybug say?”
“Ladybugs don’t say anything,” her mommy informed. “They’re very quiet guys.”
Clara Grace mulled this over then added to the conversation, “Fish say ‘Boom, boom!”
Saturday, November 25, 2006
In The Holiday Spirit
Could it be called anything but ironic that Clara Grace said “Thank you, Daddy" unprompted, for the very first time, as he set lunch on her tray Thanksgiving Day?
An Exercise In Humility
Clara Grace’s mommy and daddy pushed the long double stroller passed their town’s new liquor store during their evening constitutional on Wednesday, November the twenty-second. "At least it looks a little classier than most,” Clara Grace’s daddy said ruefully of the establishment. “They’ve made an effort with the wought iron wine wacks.”
“With the what?” Clara Grace’s mommy teased.
“You say it then,” he challenged. So they attempted the tongue twister of their own creation all the rest of the way to the grocery store.
As they neared their destination, Clara Grace’s mommy joked, “Clara Grace, can you say, wrought iron wine rack?” The parents were more than a little shocked and slightly chagrined to hear an almost perfect rendition issue from their daughter in the stroller on her very first attempt.
“With the what?” Clara Grace’s mommy teased.
“You say it then,” he challenged. So they attempted the tongue twister of their own creation all the rest of the way to the grocery store.
As they neared their destination, Clara Grace’s mommy joked, “Clara Grace, can you say, wrought iron wine rack?” The parents were more than a little shocked and slightly chagrined to hear an almost perfect rendition issue from their daughter in the stroller on her very first attempt.
More Than Words Can Say
Clara Grace could not seem to get enough time with her new baby brother. “Come here, come here,” she often soothed as she wrapped her arms around his body as if to carry him from her mommy’s lap dispite his weight being over half her own. “Everett’s arms,” she constantly announced proudly patting and admiring her brother’s stumpy appendages, “Everett’s hands, Everett’s fingers.” At the slightest sound of discomfort from her baby brother, Clara Grace was immediately by his side patting his tummy vigorously and sounding the alarm, “Ah oh, Everett crying. Everett crying.” “Where’s Everett go?” was her regular inguiry whenever she and her mommy found themselves in a quiet house with a sleeping baby and “Want to see Everett,” was her constant request whenever the baby is in view. There was one phrase however which continued to baffle Clara Grace’s mommy. “Look-a-lump, look-a-lump,” Clara Grace was often heard cooing over the little boy. Her mommy gathered that the expression most certainly conveyed tenderness as it was always accompanied by all manner of hugs, kisses, and pats. The word for word meaning of this term eluded her though. Perhaps the expression is one of those rare ones for which there is no sufficient translation to convey the emotion in the limited vocabulary of our language.
Big Sister Sentiments
Up until Saturday, November the eighteenth, Clara Grace had shown absolutely no signs of that all too common aloofness big sisters aquire toward their younger brothers. Almost every morning on being released from her crib, her first question was, “Where’s Everett go?” That morning started out as no exception. “Want to see Everett,” Clara Grace persisted as she tagged along behind her daddy who carried the baby much too high for her to inspect properly. Obligingly, Clara Grace’s daddy knelt down and put Everett on eye level with his big sister. Unfortunately, but not altogether inconceivably due to the high frequence of that occurance, Everett chose that moment to spit up a healthy amount of his freshly consumed breakfast. "Everett spit,” Clara Grace informed her daddy, confident of the disapproval this action always gains her at the dinner table. Surprisingly, when no paternal reprimand was forthcoming, the big sister took the task upon herself. “Gross!” she announced definitively and then ran into the bedroom to tell her mommy enthusiastically, “Everett spits! Everett is gross!”
Hard Headed
Clara Grace pulled the shopping cart through the wide isles of the grocery store on the evening of Saturday, November the eleventh. As she approached the check-out lane, she realized from the slight drag that she was not in total control of the cart. Incredulous, she stopped in her tracks to tell her daddy just what she thought of that, but unfortunately, the cart did not stop as quickly and the little girl got a knock on the noggen. Of course, some crying was warranted and of course, a sympathetic cashier came running. “What happened?” she asked Clara Grace’s daddy.
“I bonked my head,” Clara Grace answered her.
“Did she just say she bonked her head?” the astonished cashier asked.
By this time, Clara Grace’s crying had lessened considerably. She’d only been in this new Bi-Lo a handful of times, but already she recognized the unique power which the cashier’s uniform worn in this store bestowed. “I want a sticker please,” she sniffled hopefully.
“Here you are darling,” the clerk brightened at a chance to make the little girl’s tears go away and pealed one of the “PAID” black and white cow stickers away from the waxy paper roll. The cashier reached out to stick the stickers which left the store on all milk jugs and almost all children to Clara Grace’s shirt.
“Me do it,” Clara Grace informed her exhibiting the same stubborn independence which had gotten her head bonked in the first place.
“I bonked my head,” Clara Grace answered her.
“Did she just say she bonked her head?” the astonished cashier asked.
By this time, Clara Grace’s crying had lessened considerably. She’d only been in this new Bi-Lo a handful of times, but already she recognized the unique power which the cashier’s uniform worn in this store bestowed. “I want a sticker please,” she sniffled hopefully.
“Here you are darling,” the clerk brightened at a chance to make the little girl’s tears go away and pealed one of the “PAID” black and white cow stickers away from the waxy paper roll. The cashier reached out to stick the stickers which left the store on all milk jugs and almost all children to Clara Grace’s shirt.
“Me do it,” Clara Grace informed her exhibiting the same stubborn independence which had gotten her head bonked in the first place.
Do Ray Me
It was sometime during the month of October, just before Clara Grace turned two years old, when she truly began singing in earnest. Many autumn mornings she spent rocking on the porch swing with her mommy and requesting one song after another. “Sing the duck song,” or "Sing the baby song.” She drank in every word often singing along one phrase behind until she had masterd it. By the end of the month, her mommy could no longer count the number of songs Clara Grace knew by heart.
Saturday, November 11, 2006
Kavetching
Clara Grace often listened to programs on public radio as she rode around town with her mommy and daddy. Up to Friday, November the tenth though, her parents were of the opinion that their little girl was interested more in the scenery outside the window than the riveting commentary that flowed from the speakers. That afternoon a commentator interviewed an expert on Yiddish customs and colloquialisms. When Clara Grace’s daddy pulled into the driveway and began unbuckling her seatbelt, the little girl bemoaned, “Oy daddy.” He smiled and asked, “Are you hungry, Clara Grace?” Oy, hungry,” his daughter kavetched.
Everyone's A Comedian
Riding home Halloween night, Clara Grace sucked proudly on the fruits of her labor. “Like a lollypop, like a lollypop.” She chanted excitedly.
“You like licking lollypops?” her mommy laughed.
Clara Grace was amused and continued her joke, “Like a lollypop, like a lollypop.” She chanted faster and faster with only momentary pauses for licking. When this phrase no longer evoked polite chuckles from her mommy and daddy though, she sought for another tactic. It was then the little girl stumbled upon word substitution, the first stage of toddler humor, or so her mommy had read. “Like a mommy pop. Like a mommy pop.” She continued all the way home.
“You like licking lollypops?” her mommy laughed.
Clara Grace was amused and continued her joke, “Like a lollypop, like a lollypop.” She chanted faster and faster with only momentary pauses for licking. When this phrase no longer evoked polite chuckles from her mommy and daddy though, she sought for another tactic. It was then the little girl stumbled upon word substitution, the first stage of toddler humor, or so her mommy had read. “Like a mommy pop. Like a mommy pop.” She continued all the way home.
Share And Share Alike
The day before Halloween, Clara Grace’s mommy practiced the time-honored phrase for procuring candy with her hopeful little girl. Unfortunately, the thought of all those sugary delights seemed to make remembering new vocabulary something of a Herculean challenge.
“Okay, if you want candy you need to knock on the door and say ‘trick or treat.” Her mommy told her.
“”Trickeetree.” Clara Grace repeated.
“Right,” her mommy smiled encouragingly then closed the sunroom doors.
Clara Grace, in her cowgirl hat and bandana, knocked just as she’d been told then eyed the package of smarties in her mommy’s hand hungrily.
“What do you say?” her mommy prompted.
“Candy,” Clara Grace answered.
“No,” her mommy waited.
“More candy,” Clara Grace tried, her eager fingers outstretched.
“Nope,” her mommy said with a sigh.
“More candy, please,” Clara Grace attempted, this time remembering her manners.
Her mommy began slowly, “Well, that’s good, but—“
“More candy, more candy, more candy!” the little girl chanted in an escalating panic.
Her mommy tried one more time. “What do you say to get candy on Halloween?”
Clara Grace looked longingly at the sweets, and then at last a word did come to her. The word which her mommy so often used to persuade her to turn a cherished item over. “Share the candy,” Clara Grace instructed.
“Okay, if you want candy you need to knock on the door and say ‘trick or treat.” Her mommy told her.
“”Trickeetree.” Clara Grace repeated.
“Right,” her mommy smiled encouragingly then closed the sunroom doors.
Clara Grace, in her cowgirl hat and bandana, knocked just as she’d been told then eyed the package of smarties in her mommy’s hand hungrily.
“What do you say?” her mommy prompted.
“Candy,” Clara Grace answered.
“No,” her mommy waited.
“More candy,” Clara Grace tried, her eager fingers outstretched.
“Nope,” her mommy said with a sigh.
“More candy, please,” Clara Grace attempted, this time remembering her manners.
Her mommy began slowly, “Well, that’s good, but—“
“More candy, more candy, more candy!” the little girl chanted in an escalating panic.
Her mommy tried one more time. “What do you say to get candy on Halloween?”
Clara Grace looked longingly at the sweets, and then at last a word did come to her. The word which her mommy so often used to persuade her to turn a cherished item over. “Share the candy,” Clara Grace instructed.
A Case Of Mistaken Identity
Clara Grace sat beside her mommy on the morning of Tuesday, October the twenty-fourth. Everett, the tiny one-month-old baby on Mommy’s lap, was still the most interesting playtoy in the house. All at once, they both heard an abnormally loud rumble which could only mean one thing. “Whoa,” Clara Grace commented in surprise and drew her hand back momentarily. “What do you think that was?” her mommy teased. The little girl looked once more at her tiny brother on her mommy’s lap and responded without hesitation, “mommy pooped.”
Please And Thank You
Clara Grace learned very quickly that the bank serves one purpose only and that is the withdrawal of suckers. On the afternoon of Monday, October the twenty-third, she waited while her daddy did whatever it was that he did at the drive through teller and then called through her open window, “lollypop please!” The amused teller sent two of the sugary treats through the underground tunnel. “Thank you,” Clara Grace called much to the teller’s delight. “Window up please,” the little girl told her daddy.
Mighty Fine Motor Skills
Clara Grace sat beside her mommy and baby brother on the couch Monday, October the sixteenth. Her mommy was feeding Everett and talking to Clara Grace about all the things left to do before they could leave for the park that morning. “Do you know where your shoes are?” she asked the little girl. “Yeah,” Clara Grace answered and ran off toward her room. “Found it!” she called and ran to join her mommy on the couch again. When Everett had finally finished eating around ten minutes later, Clara Grace’s mommy was shocked to discover her not even two-year-old daughter had already wriggled into her own footwear and even refastened the Velcro.
All In The Timing
Clara Grace wiggled and squirmed in her daddy’s arms at the checkout line on Saturday, October the fourteenth. “What are you doing?” her daddy finally asked as he noticed the curious stares of onlookers directed his way. To his mortification, Clara Grace replied very loudly and enthusiastically, “I’m Sooooo poopy!”
Reach Out And Touch Someone
Clara Grace waited in the Hobby Lobby checkout line with her daddy more or less patiently on the afternoon of Thursday, October the twelfth. Curiously, the toddler slipped under the chain and into an abandoned cashier’s station. Her daddy watched the little girl closely but didn’t see anything in too much danger at the moment.
“Good afternoon,” Clara Grace’s daddy heard the cashier from his line announce cheerfully and realized she was addressing him. Just as he was about to swipe his card at the end of his purchase, a sound from the abandoned lane caught his attention.
“Hello, hello?” a confused voice inquired through the speakerphone.
Clara Grace stared wide-eyed at the unusual phone trying to remember which of the hundreds of interesting buttons had evoked this response. She couldn’t believe her luck, perhaps checkout lines weren’t really so boring after all. There was only one female voice which regularly spoke to her through such a contraption. She answered excitedly, “Hello, hello Nana!”
“Good afternoon,” Clara Grace’s daddy heard the cashier from his line announce cheerfully and realized she was addressing him. Just as he was about to swipe his card at the end of his purchase, a sound from the abandoned lane caught his attention.
“Hello, hello?” a confused voice inquired through the speakerphone.
Clara Grace stared wide-eyed at the unusual phone trying to remember which of the hundreds of interesting buttons had evoked this response. She couldn’t believe her luck, perhaps checkout lines weren’t really so boring after all. There was only one female voice which regularly spoke to her through such a contraption. She answered excitedly, “Hello, hello Nana!”
If I Do Say So Myself
As the mail truck pulled away on Wednesday, October the eleventh, Clara Grace and her Daddy went out the front door to retrieve what he had left in their box. “Checking the mail,” the little girl announced conversationally on the way down the sidewalk. “There goes an orange cat,” she told her Daddy and pointed at her old friend across the street. “Walking away,” she sighed sadly as the cat quickly scampered under a car. She watched her Daddy flip through the stack of envelopes and in the absence of any forthcoming praise, she finally announced, “talking so well.”
Bumps In The Road
Clara Grace found her daddy doing yard work on the morning of Wednesday, October the eleventh. Blissfully unaware of his current state of productivity, she decided to use him as a human highway for her tiny fire truck. “Up the leg,” she told him as the red engine plowed up his worn blue jeans. “Drive on tummy,” she continued as the truck made a U-turn along her Daddy’s old T-shirt. “Down the leg. Ah oh pocket,” she announced as the fire truck veered into the deep and unexpected pothole.
The Grass Is Always Greener
Clara Grace and her mommy sat reading a book together on the couch the morning of Tuesday, October the tenth. Suddenly, as though a new idea had come to her, the little girl reached for a second book that lay on the coffee table in front of them and handed it to her mommy. “Read too,” she told her and in quite a grown up air scooted a few inches away to open her own book. She began perusing the story she had chosen with occasional comments each time she turned a page such as, “Elephant walking in grass. Agalator jumping in water.”
Her mommy took the cue and began to read her own book with great interest. “Ah ha, there’s Elmo,” she announced quietly, and then, “Oh, look! What is Oscar doing?”
Reluctantly, Clara Grace peered around the cover of her own book and into her mommy’s. After a few more page turns and fascinated remarks from her mommy, she could bare it no longer. “Share,” she announced and offered her book in exchange.
“Okay,” Clara Grace’s mommy said in agreement to the swap.
In the same manner as before Clara Grace dove into her new book. She flipped the pages excitedly and exclaimed “Elmo, brushing teeth, Ahhh!”
Meanwhile, her mommy flipped a few rigid pages of the board book her daughter had discarded and commented, “Oh no, the hog is scared.”
Clara Grace’s page turning faltered and again she peeked around the corner of her book.
“Mama raccoon and baby raccoon are playing,” her mommy continued. By this time, Clara Grace was unabashedly reading over her mommy’s shoulder and it was clear she was having second thoughts about this new plan of hers. “Share,” she instructed her mommy once more, only this time, she took her mommy’s book and kept the other safely stowed beside her.
Her mommy took the cue and began to read her own book with great interest. “Ah ha, there’s Elmo,” she announced quietly, and then, “Oh, look! What is Oscar doing?”
Reluctantly, Clara Grace peered around the cover of her own book and into her mommy’s. After a few more page turns and fascinated remarks from her mommy, she could bare it no longer. “Share,” she announced and offered her book in exchange.
“Okay,” Clara Grace’s mommy said in agreement to the swap.
In the same manner as before Clara Grace dove into her new book. She flipped the pages excitedly and exclaimed “Elmo, brushing teeth, Ahhh!”
Meanwhile, her mommy flipped a few rigid pages of the board book her daughter had discarded and commented, “Oh no, the hog is scared.”
Clara Grace’s page turning faltered and again she peeked around the corner of her book.
“Mama raccoon and baby raccoon are playing,” her mommy continued. By this time, Clara Grace was unabashedly reading over her mommy’s shoulder and it was clear she was having second thoughts about this new plan of hers. “Share,” she instructed her mommy once more, only this time, she took her mommy’s book and kept the other safely stowed beside her.
Saturday, October 07, 2006
Growing Up
To her bewildered mommy, Clara Grace seemed to have suddenly transformed into a grown child. Everyone had warned her of this phenomenon, but she honestly believed that her perception of her baby girl was accurate enough to remain unshakeable even after she returned from the hospital with a helpless and tiny infant in her arms. All children grow up however, and Clara Grace’s mommy soon saw in alarming clarity with a mixture of regret and pride how the gradual effects of almost two years had worked their inevitable effects of change over her baby daughter.
The first time Clara Grace’s mommy kissed the top of her daughter’s head, she was utterly surprised at what now felt more like a Kindergartner’s curly noggin than the little baby’s soft brow she had left just days earlier. And when she rocked Clara Grace on the first day home, she couldn’t help wondering how she’d missed the way her baby girl’s head and long legs dangled over the arms of the rocking chair completely unlike the curled up baby girl she had remembered from less than a week ago.
Not only had the toddler seemed to grow physically, but her vocabulary and syntax had multiplied by leaps and bounds as well. On Friday, two days after Everett arrived, Clara Grace snuggled beside her mommy and baby brother on the sofa and pretended to sleep like her baby brother. “Are you sleepy?” her mommy asked quietly.
“Sleepy,” Clara Grace answered.
“Are you ready for your nap?” her mommy inquired.
“Okay,” Clara Grace replied.
“All right, let’s go to your bed then,” her mommy said and began to stand.
Clara Grace’s head popped up from the cushion in alarm and she shouted, “No!”
“But you said you were sleepy,” her mommy told her.
“Want to sleep on the couch,” Clara Grace informed her and then snuggled back onto the cushion.
That night, Clara Grace awoke uncharacteristically in the early hours of the morning. Her daddy checked in on her to determine the problem. "What’s the matter?” he asked his little girl.
“Fires on floor,” she told him dejectedly and looked wistfully through the crib’s bars at her discarded pacifiers.
“Why are they on the floor?” her daddy asked in an attempt to find the underlying cause of the night’s disturbance.
“I dropped them,” Clara Grace admitted ruefully.
“And why did you drop them?” her daddy persisted. “Hungry,” Clara Grace replied, “Need food.”
Floored by his one year old daughter’s grasp of cause and effect, Clara Grace’s daddy asked patiently, “Do you think you can wait till morning when we’ll eat a big breakfast?”
Clara Grace thought for a long moment and then answered, “Wait.”
Her daddy rocked her until the little girl told him drowsily, “Want to go to sleep in bed.”
The first time Clara Grace’s mommy kissed the top of her daughter’s head, she was utterly surprised at what now felt more like a Kindergartner’s curly noggin than the little baby’s soft brow she had left just days earlier. And when she rocked Clara Grace on the first day home, she couldn’t help wondering how she’d missed the way her baby girl’s head and long legs dangled over the arms of the rocking chair completely unlike the curled up baby girl she had remembered from less than a week ago.
Not only had the toddler seemed to grow physically, but her vocabulary and syntax had multiplied by leaps and bounds as well. On Friday, two days after Everett arrived, Clara Grace snuggled beside her mommy and baby brother on the sofa and pretended to sleep like her baby brother. “Are you sleepy?” her mommy asked quietly.
“Sleepy,” Clara Grace answered.
“Are you ready for your nap?” her mommy inquired.
“Okay,” Clara Grace replied.
“All right, let’s go to your bed then,” her mommy said and began to stand.
Clara Grace’s head popped up from the cushion in alarm and she shouted, “No!”
“But you said you were sleepy,” her mommy told her.
“Want to sleep on the couch,” Clara Grace informed her and then snuggled back onto the cushion.
That night, Clara Grace awoke uncharacteristically in the early hours of the morning. Her daddy checked in on her to determine the problem. "What’s the matter?” he asked his little girl.
“Fires on floor,” she told him dejectedly and looked wistfully through the crib’s bars at her discarded pacifiers.
“Why are they on the floor?” her daddy asked in an attempt to find the underlying cause of the night’s disturbance.
“I dropped them,” Clara Grace admitted ruefully.
“And why did you drop them?” her daddy persisted. “Hungry,” Clara Grace replied, “Need food.”
Floored by his one year old daughter’s grasp of cause and effect, Clara Grace’s daddy asked patiently, “Do you think you can wait till morning when we’ll eat a big breakfast?”
Clara Grace thought for a long moment and then answered, “Wait.”
Her daddy rocked her until the little girl told him drowsily, “Want to go to sleep in bed.”
Baby @ Work
Clara Grace’s daddy took her to work with him on the morning of Friday, October the sixth. The day was designated as professional development, so he selflessly decided to allow the energetic toddler to accompany him and provide a few hours of rest for his wife and new baby boy. The first activity on the agenda was a session on “Brain Dance,”--one of the latest trends in education involving stimulation through movement to improve learning.
Once Clara Grace’s daddy had successfully interested his daughter in cooking at the play kitchen area, he joined the other teachers who were beginning relaxation techniques in the center of the Kindergarten classroom. “Stand with your feet on the floor,” the instructor directed in a soothing monotone.
“Where else would they be?” Clara Grace’s daddy wondered sarcastically.
“Let your feet sink deep into the floor,” the instructor continued.
“They’re as deep as they’re going to get,” Clara Grace’s daddy reflected silently.
“Now lie on your backs,” the instructor directed and Clara Grace’s Daddy obeyed grateful for the chance of a moment to close his sleep-deprived eyes. No sooner had he finally begun to give in to the feeling of relaxation when he heard the familiar “jingle, jingle, jingle,” of his daughter’s rapidly approaching shoes. “Ooof!” he grunted as twenty-five pounds of toddler landed squarely on his chest and lungs.
“Feel your body sinking into the floor,” the instructor carried on obliviously dispite the snickers from every corner of the room. Spurred on by the laughter, Clara Grace decided the grown ups area had far more potential for entertainment than the play kitchen. She scanned the room and decided to join in with this strange ritual by lying on the ground and performing her best imitation of snoring. “Sleeping,” she informed the room in case anyone had mistaken her performance.
Then, she glanced at her daddy’s half drunk coffee mug and announced, “Need some coffee.”
“Did she just say that she needed some coffee,?” one of the teacher’s asked incredulously.
“It’s not how it looks," Clara Grace’s daddy attempted to explain.
Once Clara Grace’s daddy had successfully interested his daughter in cooking at the play kitchen area, he joined the other teachers who were beginning relaxation techniques in the center of the Kindergarten classroom. “Stand with your feet on the floor,” the instructor directed in a soothing monotone.
“Where else would they be?” Clara Grace’s daddy wondered sarcastically.
“Let your feet sink deep into the floor,” the instructor continued.
“They’re as deep as they’re going to get,” Clara Grace’s daddy reflected silently.
“Now lie on your backs,” the instructor directed and Clara Grace’s Daddy obeyed grateful for the chance of a moment to close his sleep-deprived eyes. No sooner had he finally begun to give in to the feeling of relaxation when he heard the familiar “jingle, jingle, jingle,” of his daughter’s rapidly approaching shoes. “Ooof!” he grunted as twenty-five pounds of toddler landed squarely on his chest and lungs.
“Feel your body sinking into the floor,” the instructor carried on obliviously dispite the snickers from every corner of the room. Spurred on by the laughter, Clara Grace decided the grown ups area had far more potential for entertainment than the play kitchen. She scanned the room and decided to join in with this strange ritual by lying on the ground and performing her best imitation of snoring. “Sleeping,” she informed the room in case anyone had mistaken her performance.
Then, she glanced at her daddy’s half drunk coffee mug and announced, “Need some coffee.”
“Did she just say that she needed some coffee,?” one of the teacher’s asked incredulously.
“It’s not how it looks," Clara Grace’s daddy attempted to explain.
Baby Logic
Clara Grace’s mommy had done her best to prepare the little girl for the earth shattering arrival of a new sibling in the home. In the beginning, this had been done through requests for the toddler to please refrain from kicking or bouncing on mommy’s tummy, seeing as how a tiny baby lived inside. She further explained that the baby was getting bigger and bigger and soon would come out to play with his big sister. Clara Grace showed interest in the concept by continually asking her mommy to sing the “Baby song” which had been improvised for the occasion. Even so, her mommy couldn’t be sure whether the full magnitude of the coming event was fully realized by her little girl.
During the last week of pregnancy however, Clara Grace talked more and more about her little brother, almost as though her anticipation was mounting along with the rest of her family’s. On Thursday morning, four days before her brother’s arrival, Clara Grace commented to her mommy during a diaper change, , “Baby Brother coming.”
Her Mommy replied, “You’re right, baby Brother is coming soon."
Clara Grace carried the conversation further by stating matter of factly, “Baby Brother coming out door.”
With the imminent day approaching, her mommy reflected wistfully of a delivery where things could really be that simple. On Saturday morning, the day before her baby brother arrived, Clara Grace patted her mommy’s stomach during another philosophical diaper change and said, “Baby in tummy.”
Her mommy answered, “You’re right, there’s a baby in mommy’s tummy.” Clara Grace thought for a moment then reflected empathetically on what must seem like an eternal imprisonment for her baby brother, “Baby in time out?”
During the last week of pregnancy however, Clara Grace talked more and more about her little brother, almost as though her anticipation was mounting along with the rest of her family’s. On Thursday morning, four days before her brother’s arrival, Clara Grace commented to her mommy during a diaper change, , “Baby Brother coming.”
Her Mommy replied, “You’re right, baby Brother is coming soon."
Clara Grace carried the conversation further by stating matter of factly, “Baby Brother coming out door.”
With the imminent day approaching, her mommy reflected wistfully of a delivery where things could really be that simple. On Saturday morning, the day before her baby brother arrived, Clara Grace patted her mommy’s stomach during another philosophical diaper change and said, “Baby in tummy.”
Her mommy answered, “You’re right, there’s a baby in mommy’s tummy.” Clara Grace thought for a moment then reflected empathetically on what must seem like an eternal imprisonment for her baby brother, “Baby in time out?”
Friday, September 29, 2006
Pacifier Debate
Clara Grace bounded to meet her daddy as he came home from work on the afternoon of Friday, September the twenty-ninth. After greeting him with a hug she asked, “Fire, please,” which meant she would like a pacifier. Once her daddy had retrieved her precious pacification device, she decided to press her luck with a further request. “Two fires?” ventured the hopeful little girl. “How many mouths do you have?” her daddy asked rhetorically. “One, two,” Clara Grace replied slyly. “One mouth, one fire,” her daddy answered without wavering. Clara Grace stood thoughtfully for a moment and then made her final plea, “Two hands, two fires.” With their one-year-old daughter’s current level of reasoning and verbal repartee, her mommy and daddy have high hopes for a prosperous future in law.
Wednesday, September 27, 2006
Playtime Etiquette
Clara Grace and her mommy enjoyed a play date with Nicholas, one of Clara Grace’s best friends on the morning of Thursday, September the twenty-eighth. The two toddlers giggled almost uncontrollably as they raced each other to the top of the two slides in Clara Grace’s back yard then sped shooting down. Then came a very proud moment for Clara Grace’s mommy as Nicholas decided to switch slides. The little girl stepped back allowing Nicholas to pass, looked at her mommy and announced, “Share, share slide.”
Tuesday, September 19, 2006
Phonics
Clara Grace proudly pushed the letter “B” on the refrigerator to hear the sound it made on the morning of Tuesday, September the nineteenth. “B-b-b,” she told her mommy enthusiastically. “You’re right,” her mommy encouraged, “’B’ says ‘b’ like b-b-b-baby or b-b-b-ball.” Clara Grace considered this for a moment then surprised her mommy by saying, “B-b-b-book!”
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