She sure is amazing at telling time. She was only two hours and thirty-one minutes off. Not bad for a 3.5 year old.
Since Julia doesn't have her extended day on Fridays, we Rowe ladies had the morning at home together, which would have been relaxing if the kids hadn't felt the need to melt down over pretty much everything. Julia wanted to gallop, but our downstairs neighbor's car was in the driveway, and our house rule is that we don't thump around like elephants when someone is home beneath us. Julia felt that the only thing she could possibly do to entertain herself in lieu of galloping was to whine at me. Madeleine couldn't handle the outfit I was trying to put on her, because she wanted leggings. Never mind that I was attempting to put black leggings on her already:
Apparently by "leggings" she actually means "spandex shorts," and simply NOTHING else could cut it.
It is thirty-eight degrees and raining out.
So the black leggings it was, which meant I got to listen to even more whining until she finally got over it and accepted her pants-legged destiny for the day.
So, what with the lousy weather and the grumpy behavior, I decided that Madeleine and I would go for a little outing after dropping Julia at kindergarten. We headed over to the bookstore to look for a gift for our friend, Quinn, whose 4th birthday party is this coming weekend. Madeleine asked if she could pick out a book for herself as well, so I promised her one new book.
Madeleine was SO excited to start browsing for her new book that she had no patience for my slow, dilly-dallying around in the kids toy/game section looking for Quinn's present. Eager to get the gift-picking done with, she very helpfully decided to try and convince me that she had discovered the perfect gift.
MADELEINE: Mom? Here's American Girl stuff! Does Quinn like American Girl?
ME: Nooo, probably not. I know he really likes Star Wars, so I'm looking for a Star Wars toy.
MADELEINE: Oh! Mommy! Here, I found Star Whores! (handing me a glitter make-up kit for tweens.)
ME: Uh, no, honey, that's not Star Wars. Let's put that back. (continuing to browse)
MADELEINE: Oh! Mommy! Here you go! I found a PUZZLE! It's a STAR WHORES puzzle! (handing me a puzzle of North America.)
ME: Well, a puzzle might be good, but I still want to look for Star Wars stuff.
MADELEINE: Oh! Here, Mom, I found Star Whores! (handing me a Japanese anime book)
ME: No, that's not Star Wars, honey.
MADELEINE: Uh...well...does Quinn like BARBIE DOLLS?
ME: I don't think so. Let me just keep looking for Star Wars.
MADELEINE: (growing impatient) Mom? WHERE iiiiiiiis Star Whores?
ME: Well, I'm looking.
She then began picking up random items and hopefully asking me, each time, "Mommy, is THIS Star Whores?" Unfortunately, none of the things she showed me happened to be Star Whores, so the search continued. At long last, I settled upon some Star Whores sticker books:
and, finally, Madeleine was able to browse for her very own book, much to her delight. Once she had picked one out, she became very concerned over the fact that I wasn't buying anything for myself.
MADELEINE: Uh, Mom, YOU can get your OWN book too!
ME: Yeah, well, there's a book I want, but I'm not seeing it, so I'll get it another time.
MADELEINE: (handing me "Butterfly Meadow: Skipper to the Rescue") Here you go, Mom! You can get THAT one!
ME: Well, I was looking for a grown-up book.
Madeleine then began to select books off the memoir shelf at random and bring them to me with earnest pleasure. "Here you go, Mom! I found a good one!" When I declined, she tried another aisle and tried to sell me on "How to Make the Perfect Cocktail," but I wasn't feeling it. As we got into line, Madeleine begged me to buy myself a grown-up book.
ME: Why do you want me to get my own book so badly?
MADELEINE: Because! It would make me REALLY happy.
ME: Well, you know what? I have a book at home that I haven't finished yet, so I'm okay. I don't need any new books right now.
MADELEINE: (big brown eyes welling up with tears, voice breaking) Well Mama. I want you to get your own book!
I finally convinced her that I was going to survive without my own brand new book, but I can tell her sympathy for my plight ran deep. So distressed was Madeleine over the fact that poor Mommy didn't get her own book that, in a completely unprecedented move of selflessness, as we entered our back stairwell, she actually let ME be the Camp Champ.
Now THAT'S love.
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