The Sweetest Reasons

Can You Believe It?

She's five.

Five is kinda awesome.

Beatrice asks me where Oklahoma is on the map. She identifies birds and beaver lodges and planets. She loves soft rag-dolls and dresses up all her dolls and animals. She tells me, I know, I know, if I go on too long. She won't go to a movie in a movie theater until she is seven. She's still so, so sensitive. She's a Daddy's Girl, big time. She can ice skate and ride a bike with training wheels and drop in on a bowl with her dad. She can pump on the swings if you make her. She likes to play dress-up and put on plays and dance. I have to stop listening to news radio in the car because it makes her sad. She listens to every song lyric and asks me about them. She can't really stand up for herself against her younger sister. She misses the city and her friends there but loves her new home too. She tells me she loves both. So do I. She likes to be in my photos (right now). She is absolutely beautiful, since the day she was born, inside and out. Her kindness is amazing. She is a better person than me. That makes me proud.

Five feels like a big one. The year school starts. The bus. Swim lessons and ballet. She likes the bigger kid shows on PBS now (i.e., Ruff Ruffman and Electric Company). She's very interested in who is a teenager and what do teenagers do. Oye. But I see that so much of my control will be gone once she's out there, and every year after that. It's like stepping off a cliff, really. But I have a parachute and she has a net, and falling can be fun. Really, it can.

The night before her birthday, while putting away Christmas decorations in the dining room, I overheard Bea tell Jo, "I'm going to be FIVE tomorrow, Josie! Can you believe it?!?"

Yes. We all can. It's wonderful.

4

Rainbow Eyes for Lil' Miss Five

Happy birthday, Bea! My goodness, my goodness, my goodness, can you believe it!?

War With Green Eyes

I have never beaten her at War. She has never let me forget it.

Right Now

I just read the inscription in the book Home Game, in which the author dedicates the book to his three children and then writes: If you don't want it in print, don't do it. While Bea and Jo are too small to get that I even write about them publicly (gasp), they are certainly too young to act well simply to avoid some sort of social embarrassment. Hence this story.

Moments into starting the aforementioned book this afternoon, (and yes, I did try to carve out a little mommy-reading time by threats and bribes), Bea called down to me from upstairs.

Bea: Mom. Josie made a poop in my room. (She is very sensitive to smells, btw.)

Me: In her diaper?

Bea: Yes. (Silence.) And then on my dress-up box.

Me: Wait? What? (Now jumping up.)

Bea: She made a poop and it fell out of her diaper. (Because Josie likes taking her diaper off now.)

(I'm running up the stairs.)

Bea: She made a poop here, and here, and on my dress-up.

And that my friends is exactly what Josie did. I made it upstairs to find some little piles all around Bea's room, and my two year-old naked. And grinning.

Bea Wants You To Know

She is the "Princess of Joy"! Her words. Very true.

Fever Dreams

Both my girls have been battling some sort of bug, and last night around 10:30, Bea spiked a pretty high fever. It has been years, it feels, since she had a fever that high, back when she suffered from really bad ear infections. We stripped her, put her in our bed, covered her head in a cool,wet wash cloth, and coaxed her to drink water. At the time, it felt a little scary, like high fevers do, but Bea seemed rather nonchalant by it all. In fact, she talked to me, nonstop, for over an hour before falling dead asleep mid-sentence once her tylenol kicked in.

I wish I had recorded her. She was amazing. She told me about every animal she likes and dislikes, and why. I don't choose sharks, because they have lots of sharp teeth. But imagine that for twenty minutes and every animal there is, and man she knows a lot of little facts about animals. Oh, and dinosaurs too. She was listing everything she knew about them too, plus made up some new ones.

We talked about her as a little baby. We talked about things that make her angry. We talked about the moon and when it is sometimes low and sometimes high in the sky. We talked about looking in windows are night, something she seems to do a lot of. Yes, my little Bea, my city mouse, sneaks out of bed after we tuck her in and she spies on the neighborhood. She told me last night that the lights in everyone's windows were beautiful. Ah, a girl after my own heart.

There was so much information pouring out of her and her hot, shaky body, I can barely remember it, but just wanted to jot down some that still clings to me this morning. We're all going to be super exhausted today, I'm sure. We're all going to be fine too.

That's What Bea Said

Here we go . . .

Remind me how to count in Spanish.

Wine is a treat for grown-ups. Daddy is a good boy and he gets treats. He loves wine as a treat.

Bea: Heaven? Daddy has a friend named Heaven.
Me: No, Kevin. His name is Kevin.
Bea: Oh. That rhymes.

(Hugging Josie.) How are you, partner?

(Watching the Olympics.) They get medals, but no candy.

(When I tell her Mike is going away for several days.) Josie and me will keep you company.

If I were my pajamas . . . where would I be?

Genius is Spanish for . . . . What does "genius" mean in Spanish, mom?

A princess's job is to eat and go to balls.

I'm coughing in Spanish.

I need mix-tables.

The Earth is under my feet. It's hard.

Daddy, you look like a puppy.

Bea: That's cowboy music.
Me: How do you know?
Bea: The banjos.

It's dark in outer space. It's always nighttime there. Josie, do you want to be an astronaut? Okay? You can go to outer space then.

(While I was helping Josie sit on the potty.) What are you guys doing in there? Having a tushie contest?

Did I sound like an alien, Daddy?

Okay JoJo, I'm going out. Keep the house clean.

Bea: JoJo, say, "Yes!" Okay?
Josie: Yesh!

That's What Bea Said

I have been meaning to get to this for a long while. Oh well. Better late than never. Much of this dates back between now and the past six months. And so much of it is conversational now. I have cut it into two entries, one now and one a little later. Enjoy! I most certainly do.

• I think Tiger and Doggie are falling in love.

• Bea: I wish I were a princess.

            Mike: You are my princess.

            Bea: Then you are my king.

• That cloud looks like you, Mommy!

• Get that baby a nap.

• Angels come from Australia.

• I need ear glue to fix my ear.

• That box don't want me to open it.

• Santa needs coffee.

• Me: What are we going to do now that Josie can walk?

            Bea: Run!

• Katie: Enjoy your dress, Bea.

            Bea: Enjoy your town, Katie.

• I love you daddy, so get me some water.

• The President is a good boy who lives in a white house.

• Me: Stop picking your nose.

            Bea: We only pick apples and blueberries.

That's What Bea Said

I can barely keep up with the insightful, silly, and just plain wonderful things Beatrice says all day, everyday. But here is a smattering of things I was able to write down before they slipped away into the fog of my consciousness, going back to September.

Let's have an adventure.

That's so interesting.

Let's pretend it's my birthday. Sing to me.

I love you all the way.

The moon is a girl.

I need something. (Best bedtime stalling technique after asking to use the potty for the second or third time.)

I'm singing a song to make the rain go away. 

Josie said, "Okay." Mommy, Josie used her words.

When I get bigger I'll have boobies and I can nurse Josie, okay?

While shopping at Bed, Bath & Beyond: Oh this is beautiful. This is like a palace. I'm like Corduroy.

Do you hear the noises coming out of my feet?

My bed is perfect.

It was a good day after all.

No Emma, you stay. We took you one time and that's enough.

I don't want to go shopping, it makes me feel boring.

I drive you to the store? I can touch the pedals.

In Bea's Words

Some recent (and one not so recent) gems:

I'm proud of you for keeping me warm.

Poppa's blowing steam.

No cats. I don't want no cats pooping in my house.

Dolphins are my favorite.

I can't fly in the house.

Obama brings me presents? (Inevitable confusion surrounding Christmas and the Presidential Inauguration in our house. When Bea hears his name she immediately asks for gifts.)

Do you have a tongue?

How 'bout dat?

Dat's a good idea? Yes?

You are not the duck I think you was.

At our house we sing songs and play and read books and watch t.b.

Where are my wings?

Right here . . .