Happy Easter-ween

Recently at the library, wearing her Jack-O-Lantern costume in June, Stephanie selected only one book, "Happy Easter, Curious George".  Which is all part of a day that illustrated Stephanie's spectacular memory, but less than firm grip on season.  Several hours before, at home,  Stephanie asked to look at a book that I had tucked away on a high bookshelf in her room.  It was a little book of prayers that Grams (her great-grandmother that she was named after) sent her.  It is still a little old for her (no pictures), so I put it up for a later time.  In it, was a Halloween card from Grams (these were not sent together, but apparently I thought a nice place to store a Halloween card was in a book of prayers).  She was super intrigued with the card, as Grams had decorated it with some stickers.  I say, "That is the card Grams sent you for Halloween."  Within seconds, Stephanie left the room and bee-lined for my closet and is standing at the door to the attic repeating something completely incoherent to me.  There is possibly nothing that strikes dread into Kevin and myself like opening the attic in front of Stephanie.  This is the place where we have stored away the objects of Stephanie's babyhood, and she always finds a treasure to insist on dragging out, usually her bumbo or highchair.  I tried not to open the attic, but she was very insistent and I was a little curious, so I relented.  She spied an orange hat in the Halloween box and says (now clearer to me since I realize what she is asking for), "Jack-o-lantern"-  which she never did wear on Halloween but insisted on wearing now.  And to Target.  And to the library... where we ended up with the Easter book.  We read the book at nap time, and Stephanie jumped up mid story to gather all of her finger puppets which she remembered had been in her Easter eggs.  It is surprising to me what she remembers and associates while being completely oblivious to the finer points of holidays.  I am sure it is all very typical, but funny to me none the less.  

Stephanie on the witness stand

Today, Stephanie turned 2 and 1/2 years old.  The half birthday would normally go barely noted in our home, but this one meant that she moved from the toddler room at school to the preschool room, and today was her first day.  Drop off in a new room with all new people went about as you might expect.  I called later to check on her, and because we have the greatest childcare center ever, they returned my phone call to leave me a reassuring message and then emailed me pictures of her playing.  But even this above and beyond moment wouldn't a blog post make.  But then there was this... After school, Stephanie and I picked Kevin up at work, and Kevin asked how her day was.  I had also asked her about her day, but apparently Kevin brings out the talker in Stephanie, and we got the preschool gossip.  Two of Stephanie's old friends from Bug Garden also moved up in the last few weeks.  Let's call them as L* and A*.  They are both very sweet, but they are also 2.5 years old, so I am not surprised by what followed.  Apparently, "A* hit L* in face with bucket" (which is, as correctly noted next by Stephanie, "not nice").  Stephanie has never ever just volunteered information about her day, so Kevin and I were intrigued!  So of course we starting quizzing her.  Is L* okay?  "NYum" (translates to yes in Steph-speak).  Did you comfort L*? "No, L* got cheese" (?).  Why did A* hit L*? "In face with bucket".  When did A* hit L*? "With bucket".  So we are clear on the weapon of choice, but perhaps need to work on the terms when and why before a court will hear her testimony.  Plus, what's with the cheese?    

I sleep with my horn and other medical procedures

Stephanie is as active as ever and not terribly committed to wearing shoes.  Thus she recently ended up with a splinter in her big toe.  I thought it was just dirt, but alas, it did not wash off.  I told her that she had a thorn in her foot, and that Mommy and Daddy were going to remove it.  She seemed okay with that at first.  Then, she must have thought better of it and told me, "I sleep with my horn".  That wasn't going to work, so Kevin got it out, which she handled very well, once we sprayed it with some pain killer spray and let her watch the procedure.  Our other recent adventure was the discovery of a tick on her neck.  A tick.  A disgusting parasite that I have pulled off of myself dozens upon dozens of times, as the woods in Virginia are filthy with the nasty little buggers.  I never thought twice about it... until I find one on Stephanie... at story time at the library.  I took it off with my fingers, saved it in a tissue in my purse, and almost ran out of the room to call my doctor until I realized that I could just text her Godmother/doctor (well, one of her Godmother/doctors, the one that is the kind of doctor that helps people- Sorry, Mary, we love you and are certainly proud to have two Godmothers/doctors, but we won't be calling with medical "emergencies", especially those related to the skin- you're welcome!).  After about a dozen texts with Alaina, I was sufficiently reassured that Stephanie was fine, though I did learn a little about proper tick removal, and apparently my technique is not quite right.  Until 4 days later, and I am suddenly faced with a rash at the site of the bite that is very clearly (to me) a bulls eye.  I run for my camera while simultaneously calling Alaina (who doesn't answer) and then calling Stephanie's actual doctor, only to leave a message for the nurse there and trying not to sound like a total lunatic.  By the time I get the camera, there is no bulls eye, just a little rash.  Another dozen texts to and from Alaina, a returned phone call from the nurse, and a handful of google  image searches again reassures me that Stephanie is fine.  There is an impossibly low chance that Stephanie would have contracted lyme disease, and I completely understand that.  I can acknowledge how irrational I was, even at the time I realized that, but that doesn't mean that I don't have a tick in a tissue in a baggie in my house right now.

The New Office

While in Virginia, Stephanie decided to open an annex to Stephanie Headquarters, whose mission is to ensure that all Stephanie needs are met promptly and efficiently.  There are a few reasons for this new location.  Number one, the employees are TERRIFIC.  There is Grandma, Granddidy, Tasha, Whitney and Tonya, and their only two goals are to do exactly what she says, when she says it and loudly admire any even moderately cute thing she does.  Tonya is like the baby whisperer, and somehow understood everything Stephanie said, when under normal circumstances, I am the only one who can do that.  Tasha and Granddidy provide rides in whatever she might point to, tractors, campers, forklifts, gators, and any other miscellaneous farm equipment.

Grandma and Whitney handed over enough new toys and clothes to entertain for hours.

The kitchen that mom found at the "dump" that inspired the playhouse purchase.  Only Grandma would buy a beautiful wooden playhouse to house the free kitchen!  We loved it!

Tutu from Whitney

Ball Popper, favorite toy from past visits!

 Like I said, terrific employees for Stephanie Headquarters.  Don't get her wrong, Headquarters in Kansas isn't bad, but Mom and Dad aren't as constantly enthusiastic about meeting her needs and desires on an instantaneous basis, so it really is a good time to open this annex office.  And the working conditions provided in Virginia are much better, as Grandma and Granddidy actually purchased two playhouses for "resale" at the vegetable stand, with the intention of having a fun place for her to play when we were stuck there.  The best part:  we referred to my mother's office as the "office", so Stephanie started calling the playhouses her "offices", so it really was as if she was running some sort of operation out of there.

Oh yeah, and all the strawberries, cherries and sweet potatoes you can eat and they even provide ice cream!

I will post more pictures and stories soon, but this pretty much sums up the trip!

I jump by myself

Our town has insanely nice pools, and Stephanie gets free admission until she is 4.  So, I bought myself a summer pool pass, and we have been going on my days off.  Until now, she has mostly gone with Kevin (other than one little class we took together) because he has a yearly pool pass.  We all went together on Sunday.  Kevin played with us for while, and then went to swim laps.  After he was gone, she wanted to jump into the pool.  This is nothing new.  Even when she was a baby, she would sit on the edge, close her eyes, turn her head, plop herself forward, and we caught her.  So, we did enough rounds of pool jumping and catching that I felt like I could get some nice looking arms if we did this every pool trip.  And then a little boy (that could swim) jumps in and goes under.  Stephanie looks at me and says, "I jump by myself."  I explained in great detail that if I didn't catch her, she would go under.  "I jump by myself."  So I let her.  She swims like a rock... sank right to the bottom.  I snagged her out, but I had a moment of moderate panic where drowning seemed like a real possibility.  She came out laughing and proceeded to do it over and over again.  I learned to reach down faster so that she did not go all the way to the bottom.  We, of course, told Kevin all about it, and he said that she is more brave with me than with him.  She and I spend a lot of time together, we talk about safety often (she says in parking lots "I hold Mommy's hand, cars no hurt me.") so I think she has developed a sense of trust in me, but really kid, if you want to get brave in the pool, you picked the WRONG parent.  Kevin is far more likely to pull off a water rescue than myself.  But, at a giant public pool with lifeguards only a scream away, I can let her be brave, and hopefully no actual rescue will be needed.