Books and Lunches

Corinne loves glasses.

And shoes.

And one page of every board book.

So we lay out all the open board books and go from one to the other...she pretends to brush teeth with the Silly Monkeys before they Jump on the Bed...then she shushes you with her finger as the Quiet Old Lady Whispering Hush...and then she growls as if eating hot sauce on the page that explains that Chocolate Sauce Is Yummy, Hot Sauce Is Yucky.

She's definitely Ivy League bound.

Svea has become a right-brained challenge for me. I have to come up with a new way to communicate with her. Like now. By the morning. By 5 minutes ago.

She is circular and loopy, clutzy and happy, distracted by loving so much, and will sing with joy spontaneously.

We've been working on her packing her own lunch. And I'm trying to give BIG categories so she can experiment and not crumple to the floor in tears at all the rules.

I found her stuffing pieces of an old biscuit into an empty spice container last night, for her to take as her snack to school. (In my defense here, I had JUST been to the store and there were SO MANY delicious and healthy options...yet she chose the stale biscuit. Crushed into a barbeque butt rub tub.)

Then tonight she made her sandwich for tomorrow's lunch and she wanted me to come see it because she made it look like George Washington.

Whaaa?

So I went to see and she had spread grape jelly on bread and arranged yogurt covered pretzels over the bread to look like GW's face, hair and beard.

When she's all about carbs and creativity, what do I do? Seriously, I'm asking.

Henry's lunch making skills involve a lot of sneaking. He wants to see if he can get by with bread smeared with cream cheese and about 5 snack packs of cookies and chex mix. Did you tell him you ate junk everyday for lunch in high school, KB? Thanks a lot. I think he tried to sneak a can of Coke in there too.

He also thinks I can't tell when he doesn't brush his teeth.

No foolin' though, there are way more laughs than tears around here, some spotty nutrition with great intentions, lots of hugs and messes, and for that, I am grateful.