It happens even to the best of us, I'm told. Does it always come with these bouts of KEENING SOUNDS and shoe throwing? I hope that is supposed to be usual, because it certainly is at our house. But aside from these small lapses, we are all pretty pleased with life overall, I would say.
Just now Jane informed me that she was going to read Goodnight Moon to me. It went like this:
I read it to you. Yes. Yes. Hmmmm... and, and... A whole lot of things happen. Hinga hinga hinga hoonga Hinga hoonga hinga hinga Five kittens and, um, mittens. Hinga... Hoonga. Hinga hinga hinga mouse Hinga hinga hoonga Goodnight.
PS. Also indicative of the current state of Jane's discourse, from today: (a) "I see the shadow of a creature," and (b) "It goed very well."
It was not too bad, here, though we've all had better ones. We slept extremely poorly last night. Poor Jane spend most of the night wailing and sobbing in our bed, and could not explain why. I kept asking her if something hurt, but she just seemed confused and inconsolable. Then whenever she would drop off for a moment, Steve would have a coughing fit. It was quite something.
In the morning, she was tired and feeble (as were we) and generally a little inclined to dissolve into tears (we managed to refrain), but otherwise okay. Since Steve and I both had the day off, we wanted to do something a little interesting, but in the face of the cold weather and the no sleep, not too interesting. So we went to "Asiatown," as Cleveland's not-really-a-chinatown calls itself, and did a little grocery shopping and let Jane gape at the tanks of live tilapia. One thing we bought was a bulbous carrot.
"Why that carrot have a nose?" Jane inquired. "Let's give it eyes. And feet." So we did.
You will be glad to know that Jane was pleased by the results. "I like this carrot," she said. "It's a lady carrot. I like him."
Christmas was pleasant, as it canonically is supposed to be. I was I think only once compelled to refer to it as "Fuckwad" (merry fuckwad). Sweets were made, presents were exchanged, carols and murder ballads were sung, friends and family joined in pleasing harmony, et cetera.
Now the semester is about to begin, the really-truly winter has arrived and with it its associated Stockholm Syndrome reactions (today it is THIRTY-SEVEN DEGREES FARENHEIT, break out the sundresses), and I have a nice lingering racking cough to go with it. Jane thinks it is all pretty swell
at least by day. The cold dark of early nightfall she still considers pretty objectionable, and really who can blame her? Certainly not I.
Lord, what little I have to say and how mundanely I manage to say it! I will try to scrounge up something more entertaining soon if only to stop boring myself, though it will have to be about something pretty dull at its core because that's all I've got going. Options that leap not-so-enticingly to mind include: drips, itchy hands, poorly-bound books, instant soup, piles of objects, dust in the corners, expensive face cream, inadequate baby lotion, jersey shirts (the dowdiness/disintigrating nature of), hair static, antihistamines, reading the same books over and over because they are the ones already in the bedroom, feeling like a jerk, how annoying the disappearing scroll bar is in OS 10.7, and sweet potatoes. Don't you want me to get started right away?
It's cold outside. Worse, it's cold in that sneaky December way that makes me think, "Well, maybe winter's not so totally dreadful," when ha ha ha the joke is on me because December really is just late fall or maybe prewinter, and I should just wait until January and then oh fuck February, and oh dear also March. Then even April is not spring but merely prespring. Dammit. At least the part where it is dark all the time is nearing its apogee, or nadir, depending on how you look at it.
Afternoons and evenings can be a bit of a drag these days, with the cold and the dark that arrives well before dinnertime, and Jane wailing about how no she does not want to go for a walk or play outside, it is too dark, instead she wants to watch a video, a video please, how about some Peppa Pig please? A video a video a video pleeeeeeease.
Hm, is there a story here? Alas, I think not. So here, have some bedtime stories instead. These are the ones Jane currently likes to be told multiple times a day, which I suppose somewhat undermines their status as bedtime stories, per se. They are
"The Helicopter Story"
In this heartwarming tale, Mrs. Rabbit (stolen from Peppa Pig) takes Jane, Hedgehog, and Mr. Badger on a helicopter ride to Helicopter Island. Helicopter Island is very rocky, but covered in lots of springy green moss. There Hedgehog and Jane go off to climb rocks and roll on the moss, but the best part is that there is a big hill all covered in moss that you can slide down on pieces of cardboard. They slide on it and climb up and slide and climb up again and again until they are so tired they just flop at the bottom.
Then Mrs. Rabbit calls them to come over for tea, so they come and have tea from a thermos and some chocolate sandwich cookies. Then Mrs. Rabbit explains that she has finished her work (delivering mail and collecting moss samples) and it is time to go home. They do and she lands the helicopter very neatly in their back garden. They get out and stand well out of the way and say thank you, and then she leaves. The loudness and wind-makingness of the rotors is commented on. That is all.
"The Story on a Train"
It is breakfast time on the train! Mr. Badger, Hedgehog, and Jane get up out of their red velvet seats and walk to the end of their car. Jane presses a button (foosh) and the door opens. Then they step through and press the next button. The door closes behind them (foosh) and another door opens in front of them (foosh). They walk through the club car, and then enter the dining car. There a walrus dressed in a crisp white uniform greets them: "Moddom, gundlemun. May I show you to your seats?"
They choose their breakfasts from their beautiful menus. They receive their breakfasts. They eat their breakfasts. They taste one another's breakfasts and agree that they are very good, but everyone likes their own best. The walrus says "Veddy good" at appropriate intervals. At last they are done and the walrus brings the check on a little tray. On the tray also are three tiny cookies!
Jane says, "But we didn't order these! Is it a mistake?" and the walrus says, gravely, "Cumplemunts of the house, moddom." And they eat them.
It is lunchtime on the train! As above in nearly every detail, though the foods, of course, are different. Jane, for example, may have a peanut butter sandwich. Hedgehog may have grilled cheese. Badger may have egg salad on rye. Some new treats appear with the check.
It is dinnertime on the train! As they pass through the club car, they see Moose, who knows Badger and gives him a nod. The proceedings include selecting rolls from a cloth-lined basket with silver tongs. There is also dessert. The treats that appear with the check this time around may be little candies, or perhaps tiny macarons.
"Cumplemunts of the house," the walrus assures her, as always, and then they walk back to their compartment (foosh, foosh) and get back into their red velvet seats, and fall asleep.
Reading this over I fear it comes uncomfortably close to the failure of entertainment and common decency that is going on and on about one's dreams (and then it turned out it was my elementary school, but the classrooms were all different somehow...) but oh well. How are you?