I have spent the better part of the last two hours thinking about which skipped topic from the last few months I'm going to write about for today's post. Granted, that time was interrupted by some laundry and a little internet surfing to see if I could, in fact, figure out some more advanced photo editing (um, no, indeed that is going to take some more focused effort) to make the pictures from said events really sing but who am I kidding? If I write about old stuff, then when will I ever get around to today? I've got to get out of this hole and start documenting the normal stuff that keeps me on my toes. So I'll start with a normal morning:
We all get up and scramble around to get dressed, groomed, socked, shoed and out the door to take Wyatt to school. Every day, the kids ask for Tic Tacs as soon as we get in the car; it is amazing what they will do for a Tic Tac. If they have been cooperative and buckled themselves in their carseats, then they are munching on their little treasures by the time we pull out of the neighborhood. Almost without fail, Natalie announces that Tic Tacs are not medicine. That habit started when Wyatt started having to take Nexium every morning and she wanted to play along, but then got a little talking-to about how we never take medicine for fun. So now she feels the need to say, emphatically, that Tic Tacs are not medicine.
So then we have to start looking for cows; if they aren't out in the first field we have to speculate about where they are. Natalie assumes they are still sleeping, Wyatt tries to come up with some story that will make Natalie mad. Then we turn the corner and must note whether the wind turbine is spinning or not. As we cruise down the hill (the biggest in Kansas, per Wyatt's speculation when we first moved here), we must look for cows on the left and the policeman on the right. If he's present, Wyatt must remind me that we shouldn't get a ticket. Next we must look for yet another herd of cattle on the left - lately there is a longhorn among them, very exciting - then keep our eyes open to see the two horses at the top of the next field. If I don't react to Natalie saying she saw them, she tells me, "say I'm a yucky girl, Mama. I saw dee horseys" so I tell her she's a lucky girl. Then Natalie has to comment on the green water in the pond, the large rock in someone's yard and, whew, we're halfway there.
As we turn the corner, we pass our local grocery store and Natalie tells me, "Der's Dih-won's! Mama, we need to go get insert needed grocery item here while Wyatt's at school" The thing is that she's normally correct with the grocery list. Then we pass the bounce house and have to discuss whether it's open or not and then I get the command to turn at Wal-Mart. Except it's Natalie telling me, so it sounds like, "Mama, you turn at Wah-Wahp! Yeah, yeah, turn here." As we head down that final stretch, she has to comment on the greenhouse that's closed for the season, the soccer fields in front of the middle school and then count the apartment buildings on the right before she assures me she'll tell me when she sees Wyatt's school. Thank goodness, because I might not see it for myself.
Notice anything? Very little of this commentary actually involves anyone besides Natalie. Wyatt and I are just pawns in her morning dialogue. Seriously, every morning, our ten minute drive is narrated this exact same way. You'd think she might grow weary of pointing out the same details but not yet. At this rate, I'm guessing she'll keep doing it until we move in a couple of months. Wyatt and I generally just smile, nod, and fulfill our roles in her little scene.
Once we actually arrive at school, everyone unloads, Wyatt has to be reminded not to bolt without us, Natalie likes to go into the cubby room with him to hang up his jacket and backpack and then we go our separate ways for a few hours. Wyatt never looks back, Natalie never has a day she doesn't miss him. Three hours later, Natalie and I repeat the drive to fetch her brother (with nearly as much narration, though her conversations get more original as the day progresses), she always retrieves his backpack for him and insists on carrying it for him clear out to the parking lot. So that's how we roll, five days a week.
We marvel at how quickly our little girl thinks on her feet. She doesn't really take no for an answer, she takes it as a suggestion to reframe her idea. In that vein, here are some random Natalie quick thoughts for the day:
1. Grandma watched the kids so I could get a haircut today and asked Natalie how many books she gets to read before nap. Natalie replied, "two" but before anyone could even blink corrected her answer to "five! Five, Dama, I get five."
2. Nat and I spent a solid hour sculpting Play-doh tonight and she asked me to make her a bird. I lovingly created one with a cute little body, a little round head, cute beak and two eyes. As she picked it up, the beak fell off and without missing a beat, Natalie said, "oh! she can't talk now."