Pride

Eva arrived home yesterday from school, vibrating.

Literally, vibrating (if you took a photo of her, it'd be blurry).

Some background: last month, she did a poster and presentation on "the First Explorers in Space".

She worked HARRRRD...laboriously drawing pictures of Laika the dog, Yuri Gagarin, and Neil Armstrong...and then copying out details about each on the poster. We helped her find the information, but she did all the work on the poster herself.

She practiced her presentation over and over with us...was the first presenter in her class...and afterwards, seemed quite happy with herself.

We were very proud of her...and even more so, once we went to the school and saw the other posters - some of which looked like they had been created by marketing firms with budgets rivalling those of major soft drink companies and fast food chains.

ANYWAY.

Yesterday she gets home and says the Grade One class had to vote on the two best posters, to hang in a display.

And out of all the posters...the kids in first grade chose HERS.

Take that, hyper-helpful homework-hacking parents.

Grade ones, I salute you.

Regardez moi! I'm NEKKID.

Me, to Adele: "Come here, we'll finish putting on your pyjamas"

Adele: "Wait. I'm going to talk to Grandpapa" (runs out of bedroom, naked)

Adele (to her Grandpapa, in other room): "Grandpapa! I'm with Mama!" (returns to bedroom).

Glad that's clear.

Music education: lacking.

Eva, looking at a photo of the Beatles:

"So which one of them is Michael Jackson?"

Last night

Eva, at dinner, after being told to finish the remaining two bites on her plate: "I know, I know. Because there are children in Africa who are FADING".

Then, while doing homework...she scanned some printouts of research material for her first grade science project on "the first explorers in space".

The Yuri Gagarin page caught her eye: "Oh, so his last name is actually WIKIPEDIA???"

Her first misinterpretation of internet information. Awwwww.

Magical

Arriving home after several days of work-related travel...hearing those delighted shrieks of "Mama!!!!!" and nearly getting knocked down in the huge, warm, wiggly hugs.

I am so, so lucky.

Her Highness

Typing this in a hurry because I have to go pick up her majesty at daycare in about ten minutes.

Addie has begun truly exerting her two year old self.

Remember that kid in The Exorcist? I'm sure I've made this comparison before.

Well, that kid was DAYCARE compared to Adele when she doesn't get her way.

Ad is a manager of mad. An administrator of anger. A goddess of grump.

Kid's got grump for DAYS.

Is this just "terrible twos", or is Adele more...mercurial...than most toddlers?

Oh, and the following is not about her grumples. Nooooo.

It's about her BOSSY.

Last night Addie announced at the dinner table, "I don't want Eva to talk". When no one really responded and Eva kept talking, Adele repeated it VERY LOUDLY AND EMPHATICALLY as though speaking to a table full of deaf people with mild intellectual challenges.

"I DON'T WANT EVA TO TALK!"

Nice.

Then, about a half-hour later, I was reading with Adele when she said, "NO MAMA. PAS PARLER". In English, that basically means SHUT UP.

(Yes, we are addressing this. Among other transgressions.)

Meanwhile, Adele has decided it's time to expedite her eventual move to a bed.

I've addressed my concerns (well, terror) about this, a post or two back.

We like having her in the cage at night.

SO.

As a compromise, we've started putting her into Eva's bed to fall asleep at night.

And for the time being, she doesn't seem to realize that SHE CAN GET OUT OF IT.

But it's still not easy.

Up until now, their bedtimes are staggered enough that Adele falls asleep in Eva's bed, then we move her into her crib so Eva can jump into bed.

Last, night, we made the mistake of moving Adele WHILE SHE WAS STILL AWAKE.

I am telling you, my arms are barely attached to their sockets.

The kid was PISSED.

I'm sure you heard the howls wherever you were. Glass broke, two towns over.

I think I have permanent hearing damage.

Which is okay, because Adele gives her (constant) directives so LOUDLY AND CLEARLY that I still get the gist.

I live to serve.

Sleepover

Eva's best friend is sleeping over.

So far, they've eaten supper, danced to the Grease soundtrack, played dress up, and fought a vicious battle over the rules of chess (!)

Moments ago, Eva tore out of the bedroom all dudded up (with the fly of her pants down) and demanded, "do I look like a rock star now?"

Stifling a snort of laughter took every ounce of strength in my body.

Right now they're going through her friend's little overnight bag.

Along with her pyjamas and toothbrush, she brought along:

Six cough lozenges and a tub of Vapo-Rub

Two superbounce balls

A stuffed unicorn

A giant stuffed rat

(and my favourite)

A pumpkin wand that lights up and spins

I love having little girls.