Right at this minute Madison is swinging while wearing her velvet Thanksgiving dress (long sleeves, long skirt — it is hot out there) and a blue Easter hat that she got from Pennie’s dad in the dress up box and which is getting a little bit too small for her. It’s light blue and made of plastic straw. It makes an interesting contrast to the black velvet top and red satin skirt on her dress. Oh and she’s carrying a baton.
It’s 1:30pm and today is a without Noah day because he’s at Gram and Gramps camp (it’s a real camp — the park & recs department puts it on) with Brett’s parents this week. This has made for a much quieter morning.
So far Madison has helped make coffee cake, eaten coffee cake, had a tea party, read her book, gone out on the porch to listen to the (very loud) music coming from the school across the way for their last day party, rediscovered the drink & wet doll that was mine when I was little and potty trained said doll, danced to Hairspray, dressed and undressed all of her dolls, eaten lunch and picked up her mess in the family room. She has not, however, picked up her tea party yet.
It’s hard to believe that she could be in kindergarten next year if we were gonna send her. On the one hand, she seems perfectly capable of anything academia could throw at her but on the other hand, I can’t imagine her sitting at a desk for any length of time. This child needs so much big muscle time, I’m telling you. She needs to run, dance, jump and spin spin spin. She is also a major grazer, rarely eating a full meal unless you let her spread it across an hour or two or three. She eats A LOT, mind you, but she doesn’t always have the attention span to eat it all at once.
Madison quotes:
“Ooh, that dress is tacky!” (As one would say, “Lovely!” proving that what I call “tacky” are things she most admires and that now she thinks it’s a synonym for beautiful.)
Madison: Do you know DW on Arthur?
Me: Yes, I think she’s kind of a brat.
Madison (thoughtfully): She’s not a brat, per se. It’s more that she gets very intense about people touching her stuff.
(Noah can’t stop quoting that — he thinks it’s hilarious.)
Upon looking out at a sudden and heavy rainstorm. “Wow, a cloud really broke out there!”
She’s become self-conscious lately and cannot STAND criticism from anyone besides her parents or Noah. Grandma, Pennie and her babysitter have all inadvertantly sent her into a sobbing crisis by suggesting she might perhaps not want to shove in line or could maybe clear her place at lunch.
“It’s embarrassing!” she says. “I feel like they’re yelling at me!”
Her recent art series was portraits of the family — Me, Noah, Peanut, Pennie and Tommy — as octopuses. (I looked that up; you can say octopuses or octopi, just so you know.) She’s also interested in writing letters and spent one happy afternoon playing school with her dolls and an easel. She is off and on about reading — picking out words and then losing interest. When she comes back to it after days away she’s always a little further along than the last time.
Her favorite toys are her dolls. Her baby dolls, her big girl dolls (Diosius and Kit) and her Barbies. She loves her Barbies to distraction, much to my dismay. She likes them best in the bathtub because she likes washing their “real” hair. She has only just begun disappearing into her room for long stretches of time to play house with all her babies and continues to enjoy making meals for all of us at her play kitchen, especially since we moved the wooden ‘fridge from the basement into her room.
Other favorite activities include: tap dancing on the basement’s cement floor, digging in the garden, standing on our front lawn to holler greetings to passer-bys, scootering on the driveway, playing with the trains on her map-like rubber mat, playing with the Fisher-Price little people and being at Noah’s beck and call. (In the evening he’ll get her to brush his hair with the good scratchy bristle brush while he reads out loud to her.)
She is really the brightest, shiniest thing around here and sometimes we three big people just sit on the front porch and admire her while she sings and dances in the frontyard.
