The Making of Shark Teeth
Hmmm. Haven't been here in a while. Perhaps redecorating will make this more appealing. Hello blogger? Better templates please!
News:
Max. 7.97 years of age. Enjoyable & charming and brilliant most of the time. Except for 95% of the time where he demonstrates that he is able to escalate Clara's emotions to fever pitch in a single bound. Exercises that skill regularly. If I wasn't a yogi, I'd be a druggie.
Clara continues to inspect produce and grains for imperfections. And by imperfections I mean the slightest spot on an apple and by slightest spot I mean a mark the size of an atom that you would never see in a million years unless you have a jewelers glass implanted in your cornea like Clara. And don't even talk to me about a single visible grain in a slice of whole wheat bread. I spend more time than I care to admit inspecting bread at market to try and avoid the grain reflex. Sure, I could just make her eat it. Or refuse to give her something else with the idea that at some point she'll be hungry enough to eat it. You go ahead and try that. Be prepared to sop up the puddle of sadness that will be Clara. And while your at it, have the fire extinguisher at the ready. Because soon she will tire of this emotion and upgrade to anger and redemption. I"ll meet you at the bread aisle. Bring your magnifying glass.
Then there's the issue of smell. She wont sit at the table with us if were eating anything that has an odor to it. And by odor, that means anything with ingredients in it, that has been cooked long enough to release the flavor. I, along with my colleagues, are cultivating a whole new mental syndrome. PTSD surrounding the years of utter rejection at the family dinner table. I have to talk myself off a ledge every time I hunker down in the kitchen to find a well balanced meal that will satisfy.
Next topic: Thumb Sucking And The Making Of Shark Teeth. I'm now left to face the fact that I "let" (as if I had any choice) Clara suck her thumb long enough that while straight, all of her teeth slightly angle forward. Forward enough that a new set of sneaky adult teeth are cropping up, slightly inset from the ones sticking out in the front row. 2 rows. Enough contact to loosen the baby teeth, but not enough to push them out. But just enough to make eating anything solid nearly impossible.
Finally: In between mealtimes, Clara prances about spreading sunshine. In a good moment, able to outshine the sun on a blazing hot summer day! Able to belt out show tunes like she's in a smoky blues cafe! It's like a roller coaster ride! Bring cotton candy!
Zoe: Quite serious. 4 going on 25. Far too sophisticated for all things age appropriate. Suffers daily when the bus takes Max and Clara off. "I WANT TO GO". Whenever we go somewhere with other children her age, she exclaims 'THIS IS FOR BABIES!'. It nearly kills her that she won't be in kindergarten until 2010, because life at home is too boring! As a September baby, I fully expect her to try and sneak into 2nd grade with Clara as she's so over baby stuff like the alphabet and numbers and childhood in general. I'm afraid I'm going to have to fish her eyes out of her forehead from all the rolling.
Zoe feels as strongly about her wardrobe as Clara feels about her produce and grains. The shirt or dress "HAS TO HAVE A DESIGN ON IT!" I could send Clara off to school in potato sack. Zoe's needs are strong yet simple. She just wants that great outfit that she wore yesterday, that is now in the washing machine, sopping wet. She has an uncanny ability to know what is unavailable, and to then desire that more than anything. And I have the uncanny ability to slip off into another dimension. Yes, I'm talking about an out of body experience. I'll come back someday. LIke defintely next week when Obama is inaugurated.
The End.
News:
Max. 7.97 years of age. Enjoyable & charming and brilliant most of the time. Except for 95% of the time where he demonstrates that he is able to escalate Clara's emotions to fever pitch in a single bound. Exercises that skill regularly. If I wasn't a yogi, I'd be a druggie.
Clara continues to inspect produce and grains for imperfections. And by imperfections I mean the slightest spot on an apple and by slightest spot I mean a mark the size of an atom that you would never see in a million years unless you have a jewelers glass implanted in your cornea like Clara. And don't even talk to me about a single visible grain in a slice of whole wheat bread. I spend more time than I care to admit inspecting bread at market to try and avoid the grain reflex. Sure, I could just make her eat it. Or refuse to give her something else with the idea that at some point she'll be hungry enough to eat it. You go ahead and try that. Be prepared to sop up the puddle of sadness that will be Clara. And while your at it, have the fire extinguisher at the ready. Because soon she will tire of this emotion and upgrade to anger and redemption. I"ll meet you at the bread aisle. Bring your magnifying glass.
Then there's the issue of smell. She wont sit at the table with us if were eating anything that has an odor to it. And by odor, that means anything with ingredients in it, that has been cooked long enough to release the flavor. I, along with my colleagues, are cultivating a whole new mental syndrome. PTSD surrounding the years of utter rejection at the family dinner table. I have to talk myself off a ledge every time I hunker down in the kitchen to find a well balanced meal that will satisfy.
Next topic: Thumb Sucking And The Making Of Shark Teeth. I'm now left to face the fact that I "let" (as if I had any choice) Clara suck her thumb long enough that while straight, all of her teeth slightly angle forward. Forward enough that a new set of sneaky adult teeth are cropping up, slightly inset from the ones sticking out in the front row. 2 rows. Enough contact to loosen the baby teeth, but not enough to push them out. But just enough to make eating anything solid nearly impossible.
Finally: In between mealtimes, Clara prances about spreading sunshine. In a good moment, able to outshine the sun on a blazing hot summer day! Able to belt out show tunes like she's in a smoky blues cafe! It's like a roller coaster ride! Bring cotton candy!
Zoe: Quite serious. 4 going on 25. Far too sophisticated for all things age appropriate. Suffers daily when the bus takes Max and Clara off. "I WANT TO GO". Whenever we go somewhere with other children her age, she exclaims 'THIS IS FOR BABIES!'. It nearly kills her that she won't be in kindergarten until 2010, because life at home is too boring! As a September baby, I fully expect her to try and sneak into 2nd grade with Clara as she's so over baby stuff like the alphabet and numbers and childhood in general. I'm afraid I'm going to have to fish her eyes out of her forehead from all the rolling.
Zoe feels as strongly about her wardrobe as Clara feels about her produce and grains. The shirt or dress "HAS TO HAVE A DESIGN ON IT!" I could send Clara off to school in potato sack. Zoe's needs are strong yet simple. She just wants that great outfit that she wore yesterday, that is now in the washing machine, sopping wet. She has an uncanny ability to know what is unavailable, and to then desire that more than anything. And I have the uncanny ability to slip off into another dimension. Yes, I'm talking about an out of body experience. I'll come back someday. LIke defintely next week when Obama is inaugurated.
The End.
posted by Hello Kitty | 10:02 AM
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