Stranger Danger

Morgan's daycare has recently been focused on personal safety, including everything from holding hands in the crosswalk to avoiding strangers.  Not surprisingly, these lessons have spilled over to our conversations at home. Over the past few weeks, Morgan has been insisting that I play "the stranger"  and she play "the little girl" (original casting, I know).  Despite my best efforts to sound like a creepy bad guy, Morgan had a little trouble remembering her lines...

  

The next round was a little better...right up until I offered her a ride in my car.  The look on her face tells me we have a long way to go in the stranger danger department. 

Monkey See, Monkey Do

We recently hosted our first "quasi" sleepover.   I say quasi because I finally dragged our daughter off to bed at about 10:00 but her little friends continued to party like rock stars until their parents came to get them a few hours later. David and I may or may not have nodded off in the interim.

Despite the late hour, I couldn't help but notice just how well these little monkeys were behaving.  And then a very familiar image suddenly popped into my head. I just couldn't stop myself.

They were just about the cutest little wise monkeys I'd ever seen. Of course, shortly after they took these pictures, I realized their precious behavior was just the calm before the storm.  I had no idea our light fixtures had weight limits.  Monkeys, indeed.

Feeling Itty Bitty

Morgan had a really big splinter tonight.  I'd show you, but she refused to hold out her hand long enough for me to get a picture.  It looked like it was getting infected, so I knew it had to come out.  After I begged, pleaded and even tried to distract her with 254 pieces of Halloween candy, she was still convinced my actual plan was to cut her arm off, not save her from gangreen.

So I told David to hold her in a big bear hug so I could quickly go after the splinter with my handy tweezers.  That was also a no-go; Morgan started wailing and thrashing like possessed fish out of water.  Once I finally got a look at her hand, the splinter was gone.  All of the violence must have shaken it loose.

Despite the fact that I never actually touched her hand, Morgan began sobbing.  Between the tears and snot, she managed to utter the following,  " Mommy, you have to be gentle with me!  I'm just a little girl!!!!"

Point taken.

Happy Boo From Our Zoo

There's nothing like Halloween on a week night to put you into total Trick-or-Treat panic mode.  First, I had to get Morgan ready.   

Whoops, wrong Zebra.

Then I had to throw some sort of costume together for myself, which was complicated by the fact that Morgan insisted on "helping" me with my make-up.  Whatever I did to her, she needed to do to me.  Let's just say I am grateful there wasn't any eyeliner involved or we may have both ended the night with a visual impairment.

We were then briefly interrupted by some random trick-or-treaters, which fortunately just turned out to be Nana and Grandpa, who didn't actually want any candy. 

Once we finally got Morgan ready, the only way I could get her to stand still was to convince her our barberry bushes were the jungle.  In hindsight, that was pretty misleading.  Zebras live on the African plains, not the jungle.  So much for that teaching moment.

And here we are - ready to hit the neighborhood haunt and rock it hard on a Monday night. Morgan was the perfect girl for the job.  Her little legs carried her from door to door in lightening speed and each precious "please" and "thank you" got her just enough candy to share with Mom and Dad.  Way to be a team player.

Crayola Chaos

Playdates are relatively recent development at our house. They all start out the same -- everyone sits at the table, ready to create beautiful, artful masterpieces that will mislead their mothers into thinking I am providing quality, culturally enriching experiences at my house. Not surprisingly, it doesn't take long for things to completely unravel-

 All it takes is for one of them to get distracted.

Markers become swords,the lids become claws, and the whole crew goes berserk.


Not that my child has anything to do with it.

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