Both girls have learned hard lessons this weekend.
It began with Libby yesterday morning. Our first-floor neighbors have several trailing plants from their deck planters. We were playing on the sidewalk below their deck, and Libby decided to try to swing on the "vines" (a la Dora). Needless to say, it didn't work. Note to all of Libby's blog readers: TV apparently is NOT grounded in reality. Who knew?
To make the lesson even more painful, she was trying to swing over a sunken section about three steps down. She was fine, but she scared the poo out of me when I saw her falling down into the pit. There she landed, surrounded by broken leaves and other bits of plant. Poor thing. (Kim, I keep flashing to the "swimming pool" you made out of Mom and Dad's shower. I'm sure Libby had just as clear a mental image of her swinging as you did of paddling around in your pool.)
Then it was Emma's turn for a typical childhood lesson. She and Libby were playing "go to work" at our back door. They both stand by the screen door, and Libby shuts the back door so I can't see them. I have long known this would end in tragedy, but what're ya gonna do? After months of this beloved game, Emma finally forgot to keep her fingers out of the door crack. Smash! (Poor thing really got it, too. It's nice and purpley.)
Our brave Emma has managed to soldier on and only mentions it five or six times an hour. It requires constant visits from our boo-boo fish (an ice pack), several Band-aids, lots of kisses from Libby, and -- mysteriously -- occasional bites from Emma herself. ("Eat boo-boo." I don't know what the heck that's about.)
It began with Libby yesterday morning. Our first-floor neighbors have several trailing plants from their deck planters. We were playing on the sidewalk below their deck, and Libby decided to try to swing on the "vines" (a la Dora). Needless to say, it didn't work. Note to all of Libby's blog readers: TV apparently is NOT grounded in reality. Who knew?
To make the lesson even more painful, she was trying to swing over a sunken section about three steps down. She was fine, but she scared the poo out of me when I saw her falling down into the pit. There she landed, surrounded by broken leaves and other bits of plant. Poor thing. (Kim, I keep flashing to the "swimming pool" you made out of Mom and Dad's shower. I'm sure Libby had just as clear a mental image of her swinging as you did of paddling around in your pool.)
Then it was Emma's turn for a typical childhood lesson. She and Libby were playing "go to work" at our back door. They both stand by the screen door, and Libby shuts the back door so I can't see them. I have long known this would end in tragedy, but what're ya gonna do? After months of this beloved game, Emma finally forgot to keep her fingers out of the door crack. Smash! (Poor thing really got it, too. It's nice and purpley.)
Our brave Emma has managed to soldier on and only mentions it five or six times an hour. It requires constant visits from our boo-boo fish (an ice pack), several Band-aids, lots of kisses from Libby, and -- mysteriously -- occasional bites from Emma herself. ("Eat boo-boo." I don't know what the heck that's about.)
Emma's the biggest chicken you ever saw and is terrified of slides at the park. This eensy-weensy slide at Libby's preschool is the only one she enjoys. Who cares that it's shorter than she is?
Libby on her first day of school sans Mom and Dad. The teacher told me the other day that she asked Libby if she was drawing an apple (they're studying apples right now). "No," Libby said. "I'm taking notes." Ahhhh. Already a little nerd. I love it.
3 comments:
How clearly I remember the "swimming pool" incident. I can still imagine myself swimming like a mermaid and waving to everyone through the glass enclosure of the shower. I can still see the place in the kitchen ceiling where the water leaked through to the kitchen. Oops! I am sure she will have the same Dora memory when she is almost 50.
Love you!
Aunt Kimmy
I also remember the swimming pool incident although my memory is not a good one. Ha. Libby looks so grown up going to school. Lets hope that Emma never has anything worse than a smashed finger. I seem to remember her Mom getting her finger in the trunk of the car when we shut it. Hang in there Emma and play it for all it's worth. Love to everyone. Grandma and Grandpa Kennedy
Note to self: Do not take medical advice from Emma. :-)
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