As a new blogger I was deeply proud to be mentioned on Charlotte's Web as part of the Commenter's Meme: here
Charlotte is an established mommy life blogger with a wide and loyal following. She is also a true community builder with a kind word for everyone in the virtual blogger world. Anyway, I've gotten quite a bit of traffic on my own little blog since she referenced me and now I am 'tagged.' This means that I'm also supposed to do the 'Commenter's Meme' and answer questions about the last 10 commenters on my blog.
Unfortunately, although I've had over 1000 hits since I started blogging in September, I don't yet have enough comments to do the Meme.
Bloggers, help me out: I still need 5 more comments! If you are one of the next 5 commenters on my blog I will comment on your blog in one of my next few postings.
Thanks!
November 18, 2008
November 17, 2008
Going back to Cali
This week the company I work for is having a user’s conference and as the product manager for our compensation solutions I am presenting. Ralf is also presenting at the same conference, which means we can travel together sans kids. In some ways, it’s almost like a vacation and it’s nicer to sit by your husband on an international flight than some stranger. We set out Saturday at 4PM and 24 hours later were still en route. . . Since one can normally get from Munich to SFO in less than 24 hours, you’ve probably guessed that there’s a bit of a story there.
After a pleasant family morning that involved Sportscheck, a new shower head, some gardening and lots of snuggling with L, who is a very snuggly baby, Ralf’s parents picked up the kids and we made our final preparations before heading out to the airport. What to wear, what to wear. . . actually since we’re not totally finished unpacking this wasn’t such a big question, I pretty much packed everything business casual I could lay hands on and hoped it would somehow: a) fit; and b) match when we got there.
On the way to the airport, reveling in the sensation of traveling with no one under 6 years of age, I inquired about our flight. An experienced business traveler from my pre-mommy days, I was dismayed to hear we would have a stopover in London. ‘But. . . that means Heathrow!’ I exclaimed. ‘You need at least two hours for every connection and we only have an hour and forty-five minutes. They always post the wrong gate or change it at the last minute without announcing it. And,” I concluded triumphantly, on a roll about the evils of Heathrow and flaunting my superior travel acumen, ‘they’ll probably lose our luggage.’ My pleasurable tirade was momentarily interrupted by vivid pictures of me presenting in torn jeans and a faded Lewis & Clark sweatshirt and I remembered this was real, not just something to blog about. Ralf, ever the optimist, pointed out that thousands of business travelers pass through Heathrow every day without incident. But I was an international consultant before leaving the glamour of global project management to be a sleep-at-home mommy and I know better. Still, for the moment there wasn’t anything to be done so I shrugged it off, took a page out of Ralf’s book and prepared for the best rather than the worst. I did have to have the last word, however: ‘You’ll see.’
As it turns out, it was in fact a bad idea to stop in London but not because of Heathrow, which was on its best behavior (i.e., rotten but nothing worth relating here) but because of something else.
At Munich airport we had a bit of confusion about what line to stand in and ended up waiting in an unattended line where no one seemed to be working because it said “Lufthansa economy United States’. Needless to say, none of the Lufthansa employees at any of the open ticket counters said anything to us because this is Germany, where spontaneous friendly inquiries like, ‘That desk is closed right now – where are you flying?’ never happen. Once we got the check in location sorted, however, the check in process went smoothly. Until our luggage rolled away and Ralf suddenly noticed that our connecting flight was for 9:30 AM the next morning rather than 9:30 PM the same night.
I’ll fast forward through the next tense five minutes (‘You suck! You SUCK! You really, really suck!!’ – later I would move on to, ‘I told you so,’ and other rants of that type but the shock was still fresh) and just say that thanks to iPhone and duty free shopping we were able to salvage the situation. We booked a room in London, bought some toiletries and then I marched into Esprit to buy the most expensive pair of underwear I now own (EUR 20!) although I have to admit they’re quite nice and I probably deserve some nice underwear. I can only imagine what the shop girl thought about me buying a single pair of underwear while muttering, ‘I told you so!’
A high-quality comedy of errors should involve disaster from start to finish to be truly entertaining so I am sorry to report that everything else was fine and hope you don’t feel cheated. The only bad thing about the flight was the book club book I’d brought, Dirt Music, which was typical of its kind: well-written, sad and uncommonly boring. This particular author’s claim to glory is that he’s Australian and never uses quotation marks to show when people talk, which is annoying as hell but preferable to writing everything in the present tense.
Once in London we arrived at our hotel without a hitch and like many reasonable British business hotels, the room was clean, the bathroom gleamed with understated luxury and the bed was soft and comfortable. There was even a curry house across the street, where we went promptly and ordered something with chicken and something with chick peas. At first glance the restaurant seemed to be full of dangerous, tatooed thugs but they all turned out to be quite pleasant and uninterested in killing us for our few worldly possessions (which, thanks to Ralf, were 2 laptops, one toothbrush and a fabulously expensive pair of underwear). When we got back to the hotel and climbed into bed there were even two back-to-back episodes of Red Dwarf on TV so the day ended quite satisfactorily. And the next morning we caught our flight without a hitch.
They didn’t even lose our luggage.
After a pleasant family morning that involved Sportscheck, a new shower head, some gardening and lots of snuggling with L, who is a very snuggly baby, Ralf’s parents picked up the kids and we made our final preparations before heading out to the airport. What to wear, what to wear. . . actually since we’re not totally finished unpacking this wasn’t such a big question, I pretty much packed everything business casual I could lay hands on and hoped it would somehow: a) fit; and b) match when we got there.
On the way to the airport, reveling in the sensation of traveling with no one under 6 years of age, I inquired about our flight. An experienced business traveler from my pre-mommy days, I was dismayed to hear we would have a stopover in London. ‘But. . . that means Heathrow!’ I exclaimed. ‘You need at least two hours for every connection and we only have an hour and forty-five minutes. They always post the wrong gate or change it at the last minute without announcing it. And,” I concluded triumphantly, on a roll about the evils of Heathrow and flaunting my superior travel acumen, ‘they’ll probably lose our luggage.’ My pleasurable tirade was momentarily interrupted by vivid pictures of me presenting in torn jeans and a faded Lewis & Clark sweatshirt and I remembered this was real, not just something to blog about. Ralf, ever the optimist, pointed out that thousands of business travelers pass through Heathrow every day without incident. But I was an international consultant before leaving the glamour of global project management to be a sleep-at-home mommy and I know better. Still, for the moment there wasn’t anything to be done so I shrugged it off, took a page out of Ralf’s book and prepared for the best rather than the worst. I did have to have the last word, however: ‘You’ll see.’
As it turns out, it was in fact a bad idea to stop in London but not because of Heathrow, which was on its best behavior (i.e., rotten but nothing worth relating here) but because of something else.
At Munich airport we had a bit of confusion about what line to stand in and ended up waiting in an unattended line where no one seemed to be working because it said “Lufthansa economy United States’. Needless to say, none of the Lufthansa employees at any of the open ticket counters said anything to us because this is Germany, where spontaneous friendly inquiries like, ‘That desk is closed right now – where are you flying?’ never happen. Once we got the check in location sorted, however, the check in process went smoothly. Until our luggage rolled away and Ralf suddenly noticed that our connecting flight was for 9:30 AM the next morning rather than 9:30 PM the same night.
I’ll fast forward through the next tense five minutes (‘You suck! You SUCK! You really, really suck!!’ – later I would move on to, ‘I told you so,’ and other rants of that type but the shock was still fresh) and just say that thanks to iPhone and duty free shopping we were able to salvage the situation. We booked a room in London, bought some toiletries and then I marched into Esprit to buy the most expensive pair of underwear I now own (EUR 20!) although I have to admit they’re quite nice and I probably deserve some nice underwear. I can only imagine what the shop girl thought about me buying a single pair of underwear while muttering, ‘I told you so!’
A high-quality comedy of errors should involve disaster from start to finish to be truly entertaining so I am sorry to report that everything else was fine and hope you don’t feel cheated. The only bad thing about the flight was the book club book I’d brought, Dirt Music, which was typical of its kind: well-written, sad and uncommonly boring. This particular author’s claim to glory is that he’s Australian and never uses quotation marks to show when people talk, which is annoying as hell but preferable to writing everything in the present tense.
Once in London we arrived at our hotel without a hitch and like many reasonable British business hotels, the room was clean, the bathroom gleamed with understated luxury and the bed was soft and comfortable. There was even a curry house across the street, where we went promptly and ordered something with chicken and something with chick peas. At first glance the restaurant seemed to be full of dangerous, tatooed thugs but they all turned out to be quite pleasant and uninterested in killing us for our few worldly possessions (which, thanks to Ralf, were 2 laptops, one toothbrush and a fabulously expensive pair of underwear). When we got back to the hotel and climbed into bed there were even two back-to-back episodes of Red Dwarf on TV so the day ended quite satisfactorily. And the next morning we caught our flight without a hitch.
They didn’t even lose our luggage.
November 15, 2008
Thought for the Day: Our Cat
This is K's thought: "Mommy, I love Guthrie soooooooo much!!! When he dies can we get a dog?"
November 14, 2008
Chicken, Sun-Dried Tomato and Mustard Pasta
I found this recipe on a cooking blog by Cook Sister - I admit I haven't tried it but it has all of my very favorite ingredients so I'm going to go ahead and reference it on faith. Nancy I know you'd love this one: click here
Girlfriends
Two nights ago during a storm the doorbell rang wildly. When I answered it, there stood Kit with her mum, wrapped head to toe in some sort of wooly fleece blanket coat and clutching a tiny blue envelope. This was then proffered to me with a deep, chesty cough. I accepted it gingerly between two fingers and raised my eyebrows in inquiry at her mom, who explained that Kitwas sick but wanted to deliver her birthday party invitation to K. Good nights and 'gute Besserungs' were then said all around and they departed.
Fast forward to last night, no storm but more wild ringing, and there stood Kit again. But not for long. As soon as the door opened she sidled past me and announce that her mom had said she could stay until 6:30 and promptly began removing her boots and coat. I actually didn't mind since I was trying to unpack boxes in the attic and was glad to have the distraction for K and L. I did wonder about that cough, however, and eyed her narrowly with each sniffle. As far as I could tell, though, her germiness seemed limited to a few juicy nasal sounds.
Up she went to spread the plague to my kids while I continued unpacking and I had a very interesting hour listening to their conversation. Kit is 6 going on 7 and my K is only 5, although she is almost as tall as Kit. K is bilingual but her German is still in catch up mode, given that she learned everything she knows from me while we were in California. Her inability to express herself perfectly puts her at a slight disadvantage with Kit, who is now comfortable enough in our home to drop the obsequious act.
I won't bore you with the minutae of each toy they fought over but what it came down to was this: both girls are used to getting their own way, but Kit will go off and do her own thing if she can't get to yes whereas my K needs to be right. So basically Kit either ignored or barked orders at K while K followed her around and whined at her. I refrained from getting involved because at some point kids have to fight their own social battles. And so, although I personally felt that Kit was being a bit of a tit, and K's whine was starting to hurt my head, I bit my lip and held my tongue.
Unexpectedly, after some highly tedious and high-pitched minutes of this, K suddenly morphed from a helpless, frustrated little girl into this righteous headbobbing girlfriend who practically snapped her fingers at Kit to make her point. She really blew me away, standing so tall and proud and sticking up for herself. In that moment she struck a blow for all of us who have ever been bullied by an older, cooler girl. It so happened that Kit had right on her side in this particular instance but details aside, K was magnificent and Kit was a lot nicer to her for about 5 whole minutes.
I refrained from saying, 'You go, girl!' but did I think it? Yes, I did.
Fast forward to last night, no storm but more wild ringing, and there stood Kit again. But not for long. As soon as the door opened she sidled past me and announce that her mom had said she could stay until 6:30 and promptly began removing her boots and coat. I actually didn't mind since I was trying to unpack boxes in the attic and was glad to have the distraction for K and L. I did wonder about that cough, however, and eyed her narrowly with each sniffle. As far as I could tell, though, her germiness seemed limited to a few juicy nasal sounds.
Up she went to spread the plague to my kids while I continued unpacking and I had a very interesting hour listening to their conversation. Kit is 6 going on 7 and my K is only 5, although she is almost as tall as Kit. K is bilingual but her German is still in catch up mode, given that she learned everything she knows from me while we were in California. Her inability to express herself perfectly puts her at a slight disadvantage with Kit, who is now comfortable enough in our home to drop the obsequious act.
I won't bore you with the minutae of each toy they fought over but what it came down to was this: both girls are used to getting their own way, but Kit will go off and do her own thing if she can't get to yes whereas my K needs to be right. So basically Kit either ignored or barked orders at K while K followed her around and whined at her. I refrained from getting involved because at some point kids have to fight their own social battles. And so, although I personally felt that Kit was being a bit of a tit, and K's whine was starting to hurt my head, I bit my lip and held my tongue.
Unexpectedly, after some highly tedious and high-pitched minutes of this, K suddenly morphed from a helpless, frustrated little girl into this righteous headbobbing girlfriend who practically snapped her fingers at Kit to make her point. She really blew me away, standing so tall and proud and sticking up for herself. In that moment she struck a blow for all of us who have ever been bullied by an older, cooler girl. It so happened that Kit had right on her side in this particular instance but details aside, K was magnificent and Kit was a lot nicer to her for about 5 whole minutes.
I refrained from saying, 'You go, girl!' but did I think it? Yes, I did.
November 13, 2008
Web Counter Stats
I'm very excited by the fact that my blog has international visitors - aside from the Germans and Canadians my first non-American visitor was Danish so I want to give the Danes a special mention. Aren't Danes great?? Great Danes!! I found this out by using Web Counter Stats and you can, too: statsLetter to the Editor
I just wrote a letter to the editor:
Let's Repower America: America faces some big challenges but has already shown a willingness to learn and change with the recent presidential election. In order to solve our economic, environmental and security challenges we need to get away from dependence on dwindling fossil fuels. Let's follow Al Gore's plan to repower America with 100% clean energy in 10 years. Other cities and countries that have followed this course are thriving economically, breathing clean air, not to mention saving money on fossil fuels. WE can do it, too. Yes, we can.
You can too: goforit
For more information about the We Campaign (started by Al Gore) go here: wecansolveit
Let's Repower America: America faces some big challenges but has already shown a willingness to learn and change with the recent presidential election. In order to solve our economic, environmental and security challenges we need to get away from dependence on dwindling fossil fuels. Let's follow Al Gore's plan to repower America with 100% clean energy in 10 years. Other cities and countries that have followed this course are thriving economically, breathing clean air, not to mention saving money on fossil fuels. WE can do it, too. Yes, we can.
You can too: goforit
For more information about the We Campaign (started by Al Gore) go here: wecansolveit
November 12, 2008
Do I actually like Facebook?
Last week I registered for Facebook in response to an invitation from one of my colleagues. It wasn’t the first invitation I’d received but I’m the classic late adopter – I tell myself that this helps me design great software because I’m designing for other late adopters. Anyway, by now virtually every person I’ve ever so much as shaken hands with is on FB so I went ahead and signed up. Then I spent two days almost exclusively on FB, looking around, trying things, seeing what works (for me, that is) and what doesn’t.
5 things I like about Facebook:
- Seeing what people are doing right now. For some reason I love knowing that Christine is moving an armoire or that Jenny just posted pictures. This is way more fun than Survivor or other reality shows because it’s not just random average-looking people off the street mugging for the camera, I actually know these people.
- It’s a great way to get information fast, like the ‘Machine is Us(ing us)’ video Michael posted or comments on Prop 8. In just 2 days I’ve learned more stuff than I ever get from chatting with people.
- Getting pinged – it’s almost as good as having real friends! Maybe even better, since I can take my time with those snappy comebacks, which you can’t do in face-to-face encounters.
- Having virtual contact with friends and colleagues way out here in Bavaria. And having an easy way to remind them I exist.
- The plug ins, like how compatible my movie taste is with Sandy Voypick. Run far, Sandy, we have nothing in common.
4 things I don’t like about Facebook:
- The search results list doesn’t show enough info the members to actually find the people you care about unless they’re already connected to you in some way – for example, maiden name, graduation year, etc., would be extremely helpful when I’m sifting through the 20+ Aaron Baars to find my Aaron. Classmates.com – which sucks in many other ways - does a way better job of connecting you to the people you’ve lost touch with that you’re actually interested in.
- I joined 2 groups I was once part of (The JET program and Judson School) and have no friggin’ clue if anyone I know is also part of those groups. Also when you view all you have no idea where you are in the list, no way to organize search results and by the time I got to # 7 in the Next list I was starting to see repeats.
- The overall usability isn’t that great. Sure, billions of people use FB every day, but who are you going to believe, them or me?
- It’s way too easy to spend too much time being virtual and not enough time being real. After only a day on FB I found myself shushing my very real daughter while responding to something someone wrote on my virtual wall.
I wanted to come up with even lists of 5 things I like and 5 things I don’t like but as it turns out I like more things than I dislike about one of the most popular and accessible Internet applications of our time. Facebook is a fun social networking tool and there’s no doubt it has shaped how people use the Internet to network. And I definitely think there’s a place for it in the workplace, where your success may well be dependent on your social connections.
But is it more than that? Does FB represent the future of business applications?
For example, could you use Facebook as a team management tool at work? Interesting idea, but challenging when you get down to it because it doesn’t seamlessly include the business applications your teams probably use, like document management, etc.
I’ve also heard rumbles about using FB as a core system of record for business applications but I don’t see it – the information that, say, a global HR system needs isn’t there and even the information that is there is spotty. For example, if my company wanted to get my employment history from FB it would look like I only ever had one job.
So, as a business application I don't think FB is quite there, at least not in its current form. But it is definitely meaningful for business. Which means that the question ‘Do I like FB?’ that I started this posting with is the wrong question because the answer doesn’t matter. Somehow this little application that allows you to ping and poke people you seldom speak to in person has scratched a deep collective social itch.
Business is about people, after all, so business can't dismiss anything that has captured the imagination and mindshare of so many people.
And I think that the journey of collective intelligence/networking/thinking/sharing has just begun.
Thought for the Day: How does he stay so tan?
This is not my thought for the day - credit must go to Italy's top statesman Berlusconi, who observed that Obama is handsome and even has a nice tan. Good eye, Sylvio!
November 11, 2008
Thought for the Day: Working Mom
You know you're a working mom when you have to shake sand from the playground out of your high heels every morning.
November 10, 2008
Living on the Edge
We were in Sudtirol this weekend, which is the Germanic part of Italy next to Austria. It’s gorgeous there, a perfect example of what is possible when fabulous mountainous land meets industriousness and cultural pride. We had two wonderful days at a family B ‘n B we really like joined by some Italian friends with three kids of their own and did all kinds of hiking and wine drinking and that sort of thing.
On the last day we stopped for lunch at a tiny prosperous hamlet called ‘Graun’ and drove up to what seemed like the top of the world to eat. It was so gorgeous I wondered if God feels like this when he looks down. Of course there were perfect apple trees and grape vines that you could eat off the branch, and an old church, and a tree house. So we wandered around a bit before lunch with an easy, rambling pace.
I fell back a bit with L, who is smaller and was tired from all her hiking the day before. The others were following a narrow path that led a bit down, and when I got to it I saw that it ended on a cliff. Yes, a real cliff. Two adults were there with six children, one of them mine, and I almost ruined the serenity of the day by screaming when I saw K picking her way carefully toward the others less than 5 feet from the edge of eternity.
Of course nothing happened. Ralf caught up to us and got K away from the edge and we all went back to eat. But later I had some vivid reflections about this. The first thing that occurred to me was that this would never happen in the US, at least not with the people we call friends. Those kids would have been shepherded back from the edge so quickly you would heard the air popping. American adults are preoccupied with what might happen to children on their watch, whereas the European attitude is more like, “Why should anything happen?”
Of course nothing happened. Ralf caught up to us and got K away from the edge and we all went back to eat. But later I had some vivid reflections about this. The first thing that occurred to me was that this would never happen in the US, at least not with the people we call friends. Those kids would have been shepherded back from the edge so quickly you would heard the air popping. American adults are preoccupied with what might happen to children on their watch, whereas the European attitude is more like, “Why should anything happen?”
Who’s right? Possibly the Europeans, since the child mortality rate isn’t higher here than in the US. And yet. . . if K had tripped and gone over that edge that would have been it, no second chance, no more K, an unbearable thought that will continue to keep me awake nights until the next near miss.
What occurred to me later once I had calmed down a bit is that you can’t personally prevent everything bad that might happen to your children. Sometimes you’re not right there and your child has to cope, whether on a cliff face or crossing the street on the way home from a friend’s house. And it is at these times that the lessons you have imparted to your children will be tested. K passed this particular test – she was calm and careful on the edge of that cliff and came away from it quietly. So I guess I have come around a little bit to the European way of thinking, although if we ever find ourselves in such a situation again I will of course stick to K like glue and screw those crazy European notions.
A guy I studied with in graduate school was a single father raising two kids on his own. He once shared with me that he had a gun and was teaching his youngest daughter, who was seven, to use it responsibly. I, childless, was horrified and asked him if he wanted her to grow up and join the NRA? No, he said, I want her to be competent. That stuck with me and I feel like I finally understood what he was talking about.
So the moral of this story is that I will be gun shopping next time I’m in the States.
Not. ;-)
What occurred to me later once I had calmed down a bit is that you can’t personally prevent everything bad that might happen to your children. Sometimes you’re not right there and your child has to cope, whether on a cliff face or crossing the street on the way home from a friend’s house. And it is at these times that the lessons you have imparted to your children will be tested. K passed this particular test – she was calm and careful on the edge of that cliff and came away from it quietly. So I guess I have come around a little bit to the European way of thinking, although if we ever find ourselves in such a situation again I will of course stick to K like glue and screw those crazy European notions.
A guy I studied with in graduate school was a single father raising two kids on his own. He once shared with me that he had a gun and was teaching his youngest daughter, who was seven, to use it responsibly. I, childless, was horrified and asked him if he wanted her to grow up and join the NRA? No, he said, I want her to be competent. That stuck with me and I feel like I finally understood what he was talking about.
So the moral of this story is that I will be gun shopping next time I’m in the States.
Not. ;-)
Willowy Weasley
Is that tall girl my 5-year-old? Can it be? How did I produce such a willowy child? I’m not bad looking or anything but no one has ever called me willowy – picture Cybil Shepherd in her Moonlighting years with a generous dash of Mrs. Weasley and that’s me. K, however, is the first person in my family to resemble a gazelle.
K turned 5 in September and in so many ways she’s all grown up now. She’s gotten more self-sufficient, she remembers things I’ve forgotten (like where my keys are) and sometimes she’s the one to reassure me when I’m worried about something. For example, last weekend we biked down to the lake with our neighbors, K’s BFF Kaye and her mum Annette. It was a gorgeous day and the kids played for a good hour before L started getting tired. Annette offered to watch K and bring her home later. It was the first time I’d left K anywhere public with anyone besides her grandparents and she was on her own bike so I wasn’t totally sanguine about it all, even though I was looking forward to an afternoon nap myself. So I started lecturing K about all the things she should be careful of (strange men, strange women, anyone at all she doesn’t know, cars, the lake, etc.) when she calmly broke in. “Don’t worry, Mommy,” she said kindly. “I’m Kaye’s best friend now and Kaye would be sad if anything happened to me so I’m sure her Mommy will take care of me.”
Well, now. What could I say to such a well-reasoned response? I had to laugh at the idea that our neighbor would only guard our child against predators, traffic and the elements for fear of Kaye being a bit put out by the loss of her best friend, though.
In other ways she is still a very little girl. If things aren’t just so she cries bitterly and has been having a rough time of it in the morning because she believes that her socks don’t fit her perfectly enough. Or her sleeves aren’t rolled up symmetrically. Or her shoes aren’t tightened quite right. I like to call her ‘My Little German’ when she behaves like this. Of course, she doesn’t get it. Ralf also doesn’t quite see my point and wants to know what I’m implying.
Her latest bit of adult wisdom (when I praised one of L’s scribbly pictures): ‘Mommy, would you still like L's picture if she hadn’t come out of your tummy?’
K turned 5 in September and in so many ways she’s all grown up now. She’s gotten more self-sufficient, she remembers things I’ve forgotten (like where my keys are) and sometimes she’s the one to reassure me when I’m worried about something. For example, last weekend we biked down to the lake with our neighbors, K’s BFF Kaye and her mum Annette. It was a gorgeous day and the kids played for a good hour before L started getting tired. Annette offered to watch K and bring her home later. It was the first time I’d left K anywhere public with anyone besides her grandparents and she was on her own bike so I wasn’t totally sanguine about it all, even though I was looking forward to an afternoon nap myself. So I started lecturing K about all the things she should be careful of (strange men, strange women, anyone at all she doesn’t know, cars, the lake, etc.) when she calmly broke in. “Don’t worry, Mommy,” she said kindly. “I’m Kaye’s best friend now and Kaye would be sad if anything happened to me so I’m sure her Mommy will take care of me.”
Well, now. What could I say to such a well-reasoned response? I had to laugh at the idea that our neighbor would only guard our child against predators, traffic and the elements for fear of Kaye being a bit put out by the loss of her best friend, though.
In other ways she is still a very little girl. If things aren’t just so she cries bitterly and has been having a rough time of it in the morning because she believes that her socks don’t fit her perfectly enough. Or her sleeves aren’t rolled up symmetrically. Or her shoes aren’t tightened quite right. I like to call her ‘My Little German’ when she behaves like this. Of course, she doesn’t get it. Ralf also doesn’t quite see my point and wants to know what I’m implying.
Her latest bit of adult wisdom (when I praised one of L’s scribbly pictures): ‘Mommy, would you still like L's picture if she hadn’t come out of your tummy?’
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