March 8, 2017 (dinnertime)

*Is, finishing dinner…*

“Mommy, can we play a game after dinner? I had a bad and boring day.”

“Um, sure, finish up and there’s still time before bed. What do you mean, your whole day was bad? And boring?”

“Well, I didn’t get to play any games. We played outside in school twice, but no games.”

“Huh. Sorry you had such a terrible, horrible, gameless day. What game do you want to play? Suspend, or maybe a card game…?”

“Hey, what if we made a new game? How about if we play Candy Land… but with fried chicken?”

“Sounds good to me! Might get a little smelly and greasy…”

“Fried Chicken Candy Land!”

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January 22, 2017

*Is climbs into bed with me this morning, complete with her new flamingo toy (okay, it’s really a squeaky dog toy, but she saw it at the pet store yesterday and flipped out, so now it’s hers) and a Valentine’s Day balloon. She’s tucked the flamingo in (Isobel is the Mommy) and is telling the flamingo a bedtime story. Apparently, my upcoming second hip replacement (scheduled for Valentine’s Day) is something Is has been thinking about…*

“Okay, this story is called, ‘The Aliens of Harmony.’¬† Once upon a time, Mom wanted to go to outer space, and the doctor said ‘wait ’til you get your new hip on Valentine’s Day,’ and she said okay and then she got in the rocket ship and blasted off into space. And then the aliens did some bad thing to Mom, but we’ll find out next time what that is.”

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January 9, 2017 (after school)

*Walking in the house, Isobel has had a sort of rough day; hurt her leg on the car, and then I told her it was too cold to play in the snow. She’s crying on her way into the house, throwing her gloves and boots, angry and sad…*

“Look, babe, let’s hug, have a tissue, I’ll make you a snack, then we can talk about your day, okay?”

“NO!”

“Okay.”

*She takes the tissue, wipes her face and says…*

“I’m gonna make you dinner. In my restaurant. I want to feel better so I’m going to cook for you, and then¬† you can cook for real, for me.”

“Okay, that sounds good! Where do you want me?”

“On the stairs, stay there. I have a Stair Restaurant.”

*She grabs a few bits of toy food from the living room and carefully and artfully sets them up on the volute- it reminds me of the show ‘Chef’s Table.’ I settle myself on the steps while she flies up to the playroom; immediately I hear banging and things being collected, then little footsteps at the top of the stairs. From behind and above me, she says…*

“It’s a Calm Restaurant. For you to not be starving in. Okay. Okay?”

“I got it. I’m calm.”

*Next thing, she loses control of the huge pile of toy food in her arms and it all comes bouncing down the stairs, so I quickly turn my surgical hip away, and get hit with about twenty pieces of plastic food. I hold up a few things that I managed to catch; an eggplant, half a cake, a spoon, and say…*

“THIS IS NOT CALM EATING! ALSO, I AM STARVING!”

“Hahahaha!”

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