Friday, March 30, 2012

Pointing That Finger

Ashlyn has taken to gesturing with a finger while she talks.

No, not THAT finger. The phalanx in question is her pointer finger; also known as, "The Socially Acceptable Pointing Finger".

Whenever she speaks, her pointing fingers makes its pointy appearance, gesturing and coinciding with whatever she may be saying.

You might expect to see this particular movement partnered with phrases such as: "If I may disagree with you", or "Just one moment please", and "If I might have your attention please", and so on.

Only in our house, it is pairing quite well with: "Caedance is really an excellent DS player", or "We are having peas for dinner", and "I completed all of my math work for today".

Perhaps not the most common uses for The Finger Point, but there it is.

Sometimes the finger not only points, but you'll also see it waggling back and forth, or bending up and down in some strange gesture calisthenics. Every once in awhile the film lover in me cannot help but think of Danny's "Redrum"ing finger from The Shinning.

I'm not completely certain what brought this conversational prop to the forefront, but it has been with us for several weeks now and doesn't seem to be ready to make an exit any time soon.

So there it is, I conclude (with finger pointed).

Let us start a new fad. Raise those fingers high. (The pointer finger, people. Not Mr. Middle; he stays down.)

Thursday, March 29, 2012

And The Bucket Too

Quite some time ago, (so long that I cannot begin to define it), I was wandering the aisles of one retail chain store or another and come across a most interesting item. At least, it seemed to be a the time. It was a popcorn bucket, you see.  It had a round, slotted tray at the bottom, presumably so that all of the extra salt and buttery joy that sloughs off of said kernels would fall through the slots rather than creating a sludge of salty, buttery goodness that encases the dregs of the popcorn. (If there's such a thing as Too Salty or Too Buttery Popcorn dregs...well, that's news to me).

At the time, I thought it was pure genius. (I was also apparently forgetting the fact that Popcorn does not make it onto the snack list at our house very often; nor does it arrive in any other form than in a bag earmarked as  Microwavable. Yes, certainly this bucket was made for savvy consumers. Just like me.

I purchased said "treasure" and, needless to say, it has held actual popcorn maybe one time in its partnership with our house. Maybe twice.

This is not to say that the bucket has gone unused. Mais, non. Where there are children, there will always be uses for an empty bucket. Always.

For awhile it was a hat. I wish I could say the girls were really young during that stage, but I would be lying.

Then in a sudden burst of musical genius, it was upturned and carted around as a traveling drum. "Mom! Listen to this" (bang, ba-bang-ba-bang, bang). "What do you think?" Oh. My. Such....sounds.

During one of the girls' rotating recurrences of Chipmunk Mania, it held the whole gang--including the Chippettes, with some roasted peanuts tossed in for good measure.

For the past week it has belonged solely to Caedance. It has sat nearby during our schooling. It's come with us on trips to the store. It even gets tucked into bed with her at night. And this time it carries a precious cargo: a small handful of Littlest Petshop figures; mainly those in the burrowing, nut eating variety.

She walks around with her bucket, quite nonchalantly. "Yes, this is my bucket of Pets. Thank you." Every once in awhile she stands very still and shakes it vigorously, nods, and verbally confirms, "Yes, they're all in there," before walking on her way again. The bucket gets set aside while she engages in some other activity or another, and is picked up and carted away again. Reunited.

It used to be an odd sight. Now it is quite ordinary. Caedance and her popcorn bucket. With Littlest Pet Shop pets inside.

Tonight, when I tuck her into bed with one more kiss and one more hug, I'll have to move the bucket aside. She'll worry that I'm taking it away. I'll reassure her that would not happen. Then I'll put it back once more. She'll smile and turn over, falling asleep quickly.

With a large popcorn bucket by her head. And small woodland creatures inside it.

And I'm completely okay with every bit of that.

Saturday, March 10, 2012

Memory Makings

Sitting across from the girls today at breakfast, a thought suddenly flitted into my still slightly groggy brain. My lovely ladies have reached the age I was when I began really remembering my childhood.

My parents have scores of pictures of me sitting in the midst of vacations and adventures we took as a family. I'm young in most of them, anywhere from 3 to 6 years old. Looking at these pictures, I can see that I'm obviously there, but without any memory of it of my own, it's more like I'm a part of the scenery.

Side note: I do have very hazy memories of a family trip to Washington D.C when I was 4ish. Not many, but a few. I have a picture of myself sitting by the Reflecting Pool. Now, based on that photo alone I can only tell you two things: Firstly, sitting down in that moment was apparently the highlight of my day, judging by the look of sheer exhaustion on my face. Secondly, it was apparently alarmingly hot when we were there, if the melted expressions on our faces is any indication. What I do remember from that trip; my singular memory from my one and only trip to our nation's capitol is this: Standing at the foot of the Lincoln Memorial, hearing my mother tell me that the man in the chair was one of our presidents. And being terrified. I mean, truly and utterly terrified. THIS man was a president, I pondered. He's a giant! How on earth did he ever fit anywhere? Was there a house big enough for him? Did he step on people and not realize it?

Clearly, effigies and monuments cast in marble were outside of my 4 year old mind.

My memories of Childhood seem to all begin around the age of 6 and 7. Finally I felt a part of all of those family trips because I actually remember being there.

And now these two ladies are at that age too. When I ask them questions about places we've been in the last few years, they remember and will engage in a conversation about being there and what they did when they were there.

I am loving this part of their childhoods; this stage of collecting of memories. Everywhere we go exciting and everything we do is fabulous. They're along for the ride.

And it's a pretty great ride, if you're asking me.