A few nights ago, my husband, our two girls, and I were in a particularly good mood and we began singing together merrily on our drive home from dinner. Struck by our obvious family talent, my 4-year-old suggested we start a band. She excitedly pronounced that she and I could be the singers and dancers, her daddy could be the drummer, and her 2-year-old sister could play the whistle. That's right, the whistle. Didn't you know that the whistle is all the rage in music these days? I hear the scholarships chiming in from Juilliard already.
In anticipation of an upcoming gig, my 4-year-old belted out an original song right there on the spot, as she often does. Typical of her, it was sweet, in tune, and it rhymed on point. It was about butterflies and flowers and love and all things pretty, and it lasted a good two or three minutes. I swear I almost saw hearts floating from her lips as she sang. We were all very impressed.
Throughout her sister's performance, my 2-year-old, fearing she was being upstaged, kept interrupting, saying "My turn!!" She didn't want to be no whistle-er! She wanted to sing, gosh-darnit. So after my 4-year-old's song ended and our applause faded, we turned to our littler one. The car was hushed, silent in anticipation of this song that she was so eager and apparently prepared to perform. She turned to us and belted out a long, drawn-out, rather husky:
BUUUUUUTTT!!!
That's right "Butt." As in buttocks, behind, rear, bum, derriere, arse. And that was it.
That in a nutshell is the difference between my two girls. Each is absolutely just as precious as the other of course. But I do think my toddler needs to stick to the whistle.
Friday, September 29, 2006
Saturday, September 23, 2006
Lucia and Anastasia
Yes, it's been nearly two months since I last posted. What can I say? One day ran into the next and the craziness of life just took hold. I almost decided to just chuck the blog since so much time has passed, but the reasons for beginning it still held true. So I'm back.
What originally caused the stutter in my blogging was a trip to Chicago. I was there during the latest terrorist threat - ya know, the one that required all liquids to be banned from carry-ons? I was to fly out of O'Hare the very next day. Nightmare with a capital N, so my friends and I decided instead to rent a car and drive home. It was a smart move.
The threat sucked any light-heartedness that had begun on that trip. My friend and I, while waiting in the airport for our flight out (which was delayed three hours), and after consuming a cocktail, in our bored state fashioned an alternative background for the two of us. Didn't you ever do this as a kid? Let your imagination run wild, recreate your life/history, and form alternative identities? I used to go to a lake every summer with a childhood friend, and the two of us always pretended we were rich sisters. And our names were always androgynous for whatever reason. I was Alex, Joey sometimes. She was Toni or Randi. It was fun.
Yes, I'm 34 now and should be past such fantasies, maybe, but my friend and I decided in that airport that we would be international women of mystery. I was an Italian romance novelist named Lucia, and she was a Russian princess, Anastasia. We rather enjoyed ourselves, basking in immature pretend, taking on our personas and new accents, exaggerated with a slight buzz. But it was something we joked about just between the two of us, so why not? I'm a responsible wife, parent and professional 24/7, so it felt good to be silly and juvenile for absolutely no reason other than self-entertainment.
The joviality of our creations in the airport stood in stark contrast the very next day when the terrorist threat was unveiled. Lucia and Anastasia seemed ridiculous, and the reality of this world took over again. But in retrospect, I think Lucia and Anastasia are exactly what is needed sometimes as a reminder that life is too short - that it's important to laugh and have fun and to not take ourselves too seriously. Because the world in its current state is a little too scary sometimes.
What originally caused the stutter in my blogging was a trip to Chicago. I was there during the latest terrorist threat - ya know, the one that required all liquids to be banned from carry-ons? I was to fly out of O'Hare the very next day. Nightmare with a capital N, so my friends and I decided instead to rent a car and drive home. It was a smart move.
The threat sucked any light-heartedness that had begun on that trip. My friend and I, while waiting in the airport for our flight out (which was delayed three hours), and after consuming a cocktail, in our bored state fashioned an alternative background for the two of us. Didn't you ever do this as a kid? Let your imagination run wild, recreate your life/history, and form alternative identities? I used to go to a lake every summer with a childhood friend, and the two of us always pretended we were rich sisters. And our names were always androgynous for whatever reason. I was Alex, Joey sometimes. She was Toni or Randi. It was fun.
Yes, I'm 34 now and should be past such fantasies, maybe, but my friend and I decided in that airport that we would be international women of mystery. I was an Italian romance novelist named Lucia, and she was a Russian princess, Anastasia. We rather enjoyed ourselves, basking in immature pretend, taking on our personas and new accents, exaggerated with a slight buzz. But it was something we joked about just between the two of us, so why not? I'm a responsible wife, parent and professional 24/7, so it felt good to be silly and juvenile for absolutely no reason other than self-entertainment.
The joviality of our creations in the airport stood in stark contrast the very next day when the terrorist threat was unveiled. Lucia and Anastasia seemed ridiculous, and the reality of this world took over again. But in retrospect, I think Lucia and Anastasia are exactly what is needed sometimes as a reminder that life is too short - that it's important to laugh and have fun and to not take ourselves too seriously. Because the world in its current state is a little too scary sometimes.
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