The poetic and the very unpoetic

Julia waxed poetic this morning as I came over to the breakfast table to give her a hug and kiss. In fact, were it not for the end of her statement, I would have thought she was reciting a poem she'd heard from either a book or movie. "Night is her hair," she told me, stroking my hair, "morning is her skin, and the stars in her eyes, and the wood on her head!" I asked her where she got that from, and she told me she just got it from herself. So I took my night hair, morning skin, starry eyes and wooden head and repeated it to Ethan, who got a pretty big kick out of it.

The poetic speech didn't last, unfortunately; by the time breakfast was done Julia had taken a turn for the contrary. For no obvious reason, except for the fact that she woke up extra early this morning, and she didn't want me doing a ponytail in her hair, despite the fact that her hair was "not cooperating! It KEEPS going in my face when I try and eat my breakfast!" Julia quite contrary lasted for much of the early morning; the various colored shapes on Madeleine's walker were ORANGE, they were NOT yellow, blue, red, etc. Julia's name is Mommy, she's going to call herself mommy, not me. She doesn't want to watch ANY shoes, she just wants to stay in her room FOREVER. Etc etc. Luckily, after being ignored for awhile, she got over her grouchiness and apologized for being contrary, and now she's back to playing with Little People who have pet wolves that they trained and who hear a sound out their window. They're timid to look out, but when they do, it is not a squirrel; they see all these creatures that were never there before. Also, if a thief tries to get into their house, they just cut up the thief. Then they heard another sound and they look out the window and they think it's the Big Bad Wolf, but it's NOT! - it's an OWL out there, not a Big Bad Wolf.

Phew! That was a close one.