May 11, First think in the morning

*I get up at either five thirty or six in the morning. I grab a shower, then head into the kitchen to start breakfast and make Is’s school lunch. Is usually gets up at twenty to seven and wanders into the kitchen soon after. Friday, I was standing at the sink, cooking Is’s lunch and drinking my tea. I hadn’t really used my brain yet; this is all automatic setting stuff I do in the morning. When I turn to ask Is what she wants to eat, I catch her standing in the middle of the room, in sun rays, wildly waving her arms. It’s that time of year when the sun streams through the northeast-facing kitchen windows before seven in the morning.*

“Um. Is, what are you doing?”
“There are so many of them!”
“Of what, baby?”

*At this point, I think, o shit, sugar ants… But no. She starts waving her arms again in the air, batting at invisible things like a cat does.*

“What is this stuff?”
“What stuff, baby… oh, oh, it’s dust! It’s just dust motes in the air. You can see them because of the way the sun is shining in here.”
“I want them out of our house!”
“Ha, dude, nobody has a dust-free house.”
“But what IS it?”
“Dust? It’s made mostly from our dead skin cells that slough off… and bacteria we bring in from outside, and stardust from comets and meteorites.”
“What? That’s crazy.”
“I know! But it’s true.”

*She runs away, I think to go to the bathroom, but she returns with the crappy little plastic microscope I bought her years ago for looking at leaves and whatnot. She holds the microscope in the air and looks through it.*

“Is, what are you doing?”
“I’m gonna see which is which!”
“Um…”
“I can’t tell!”
“Haha, of course you can’t, not like that. Okay, lets have breakfast and I’ll tell you all about how microscopes work.”
“Okay. Can you make me some oatmeal?
“Of course.”
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March 19, An Apple’s Way Of Life

*Every day Is comes home from school and has a snack, then does her homework, then she can play or do whatever she likes. Today, I was cutting up apples for her snack (she requested apples with peanut butter and some popcorn), when I noticed that the apple had a scar. Isobel had two long scars on her leg from previous hip surgeries- one along the bikini line from several open reductions, and one on her outer thigh from a femoral osteotomy and subsequent hardware removal. Most of the time she’s fine with her scars, but sometimes she doesn’t like them. I told her that scars are just a way that you can see how strong you are- that you were stronger than whatever gave you that scar, and now you’re healed. So I pointed out the apple’s scar.*

“Hey, Is, look at this apple- it has a scar!”
She looks. “Just like me!”
“That’s right.”
“Huh.”
“I’ll be done making your snack in a minute.”
“Should we eat it?”
“Sure, it’s fine. It’s just a spot where the apple rested on a branch or something, that’s why there’s a scar in the skin.”
“So it didn’t do anything to get the scar?”
“No, I don’t think apples don’t do much except grow, right?”
She smiles and leaves the room to put her homework on her desk. From the other room she calls to me, “Hey, apples don’t even have a way of life!”

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March 16, 2018, first thing in the morning.

*This morning, Isobel wakes up and doesn’t come right into the kitchen. I putter around, preparing her lunch for school for a bit. When she still hasn’t come in a few minutes later, I find her in her room, sitting on the rug, looking thoughtful.*

“Hey, babe, you okay? What can I make you for breakfast?”
“Mom, I’m thinking.”
“Oh?”
“Yes. I’m thinking about a giant eye test.”

*I get a picture in my head of a regular eye test poster, you know the kind, with the capital letter E facing different ways, but the poster is as big as a door, or the wall. Then I remember we’ve been reading a lot of fairy tales lately, so I wonder…*

“What do you mean? A giant eye test, like the test itself is giant? Or an eye test for a giant, like a test for Grawp, Hagrid’s brother?”
“An eye test for a giant. Like, ‘Can you see this house? Can you see this book? Can you see me? Or am I just a tiny speck?'”
“Isobel, that’s amazing. I wonder if anybody else has ever once thought about that.”
“Hmm.”
“Babe, we’ve got to get to school. Want some oatmeal?”

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This image is a photo of an opera stage, built for a festival in Bregenz, Austria. Read more about the fantastic stages here: http://twistedsifter.com/2011/08/outdoor-opera-on-the-lake-stages-of-bregenz/

February 17, 2018, WTF, Fairy Tales?

*Isobel and I have been working our way through a vintage copy of ‘Grimm’s Fairy Tales’ at bedtime. I found it for fifteen cents at a thrift shop; it’s got a Kaye Nielsen illustration on the front cover, and a history of the Grimm brothers as the introduction. It’s easily the best fifteen cents I’ve ever spent.
A lot of the fairy tales in this book are pretty harsh- they’re the original stories, not cleaned up for kids, so there’s plenty of graphic eye-pecking, dancing ’til death, and corpses discussing secrets while dangling from the gallows. Many tales have odd terms that Isobel hasn’t heard before, which often lead to lots of questions. Last night was no different…*

“And then he lay down and she loused him.”
“Mom? What’s that word, ‘loused?'”
“Ah, it’s gross. You sure you want to know?”
“Mooooom….”
“Okay, okay. So, remember these stories are from hundreds of years ago. People didn’t have indoor plumbing for bathrooms; toilets, showers, sinks and such… and they didn’t bathe very often. So most of them had bugs in their hair- lice. ‘Lousing him’ means she picked bugs out of his hair.”
“OH MY GOD, MOMMY, THAT’S DISGUSTING! Bugs? IN THEIR HAIR?! GAH!”
“I told you it was gross. Wait ’til you hear where they went to the bathroom.”
“Nooooooo!!!!”
“Hahahaha, maybe next time. Should I get back to it?”
“Ew, yes.”

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February 13, 2018, Going Swimming

*Isobel’s taken swimming lessons since she was eighteen months old. There are few things she loves more than being in the water. And she’s fearless; she’ll just as happily jump off the starting block into the deep end (9 feet!) and swim in the lap pool as in the smaller, warmer, more shallow therapy pool. I originally started swimming with her to try and build up her core muscles after the spica casts treating her hip dysplasia left her abdominal, back, and leg muscles weak. But she loves it so much, we’ve kept up with it. She goes once a week. This week, she had some new questions…*

*Putting on her suit, right before her lesson*

“Hey, Mom.”
“Yeah? Let’s move it, we’re gonna be late.”
“How come girls have to cover our boobs in the pool? Boys can just wear bottoms, but girls have tops and bottoms. Why is that?”

*Since we have two minutes to get Is into the pool, and I really don’t want to explain the sexualization of women’s breasts to my six-year-old, I go blank for a second.*

“Mom?”
“Uh. Yes. Yes! Okay, well, you know how everybody has private parts, right? And you keep those covered up in public?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay, so girls have extra private parts.”
“Really?”
“Yes. We win for private parts. We have more than boys.”
“WOW!”
“I know! Let’s get going.”
“Mom, I have tiny boobs.”
“They’re perfect, baby. Let’s plow.”

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November 1, 2017- After her bath

*After Isobel’s bath today, she is drying off when she stops, looks up at me, and says…*

“Mom. If there were no girls, there would be no babies.”
“Right. But the girls still need boys.”

*Now, since the kid is only six, I’ve only explained the process of how a baby grows and is born- not how it actually got IN THERE. I’m sure that conversation is inescapable, but I’m not rushing into that part of the whole thing.*

“But why? Only girls can have babies.”
“That’s right. But girls need boys to start the baby- like remember, the egg comes from the girl, and the sperm comes from the boy, and they fit together, and then the baby grows in the girl.”

*She considers this a moment, her head tilted to the side, turquoise turban getting darker as it wicks water from her freshly washed hair.*

“Kind of like a puzzle.”
“What, a baby?”
“Yeah, the pieces fit together- to make a baby puzzle.”
“You got it.”

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September 27, 2017- at night

*On the way home from dinner with some friends in the city…*

“Mom.”
“Yes?”
“Nights are my favorite.”
“Why?”
“Well, you get to sleep. And you get to see the moon. And the colorful lights on the buildings. And you can see the stars- they look like little lights inside the sky. And we can play the game with the eyes.”
“Oh, the game where we pretend lights in between the trees are creepy creatures?”
“Yes! I love that game.”
“Me, too. I guess night is also my favorite.”
“It’s the best.”

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Friday, September 15, 2017, after school

*After school today, Isobel is watching “Magic School Bus.” She turns off the show to ask me about flamingos.*

“Mom.”
“Eh?”
“How do flamingos protect themselves?”
“Uh, well, they can fly, so they can get away from anything trying to eat them, and they can peck to protect themselves… and they’re usually together in a flock, so there are a lot of them, and they can protect each other.”
“Do you think they use camouflage?”
“Camouflage? But they’re pink.”
“Yeah! They blend in with other pretty pink things.”

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July 21, snacktime

*Today, Isobel is watching Moana while I make her a snack. She’s working on a shelling a little bowl of peanuts and peeling an orange, while I make her a slice of toast with butter and jelly…*

“Wow, there’s a stingray that kills the chief’s mom… Awww…”
“Aww, that’s rough. They usually don’t kill people. Hey, did I ever tell you about the time I got hugged by a stingray?”

*She turns to look at me, interest and concern on her face.*

“But did you die?”
“What? Ha, no, I didn’t die. I’m standing here making you a piece of toast, you weirdo. How could I be dead?”
“Oh.”
“So, no, I’m okay, I just got a hug, I didn’t get killed. Although they can kill you if they sting you. I didn’t get stung. See the difference?”
“Yes. They were all circling around her.”
“Oh, that sounds crazy. There was just one that hugged me.”
“How did it hug you?”
“Well, I was at Sea World, and I was at the pool where you can feed the rays, and I had a shrimp in my hand… and a little ray swam over my hand and took the shrimp at the same time a big ray swam over to eat it, but the big ray didn’t see the little ray, because their eyes are on top and their mouths are on the bottom… so I guess the big ray bit the little ray and the little ray ended up jumping up and the big ray must have been surprised and jumped out of the pool and landed on my chest.”
“Were you scared?”
“Not really, I didn’t have time to be scared; I was just as surprised as that ray was. I didn’t want it to get scratched by the buttons on my jacket- and I was trying to shove the thing back in the water, but it was so heavy and felt so weird, like cool, wet velvet sliding over muscle… and then I saw two Sea World workers running towards me from the other side of the pool, and they looked horrified… I shoved the thing back into the water just as they reached the pool. As I looked around for my friend to ask why he hadn’t helped me, I realized that everybody behind me had scattered, and I was all alone and also completely soaked from the stingray’s big hug.”
“That’s pretty funny.”
“I thought it was hilarious.”

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June 18, 2017 *Father’s Day*

*We’re at the in-law’s for Father’s Day- after an afternoon of playing in the yard, Is runs in to use the bathroom and asks me to join her…*

“Just for a minute, Is, then you’re on your own…”
“I have to poo, though…”
“Yep, you can do that by yourself, babe, okay, I’m out.”
“No, stay! It’s Father’s Day! This is what YOU get for Father’s Day!”
“What, poo? That’s great. Oh my god, the smell. Is, I’m leaving…”
“Happy Father’s Day, Mommy!”
“Aaagghhhhh…”

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