Anna: I'm thinking of a story.
Mom: What's the story?
Anna: There was a boy and his name was Chocolate Kicker and he kicked a fence and hurt his foot. And his mommy came over and put a band-aid on it.
Mom: Did it make his foot feel better?
Anna: Yes. And he had a baby and his name was Happy Cap.
I think this is her first invented narrative. Of course, she's always pretending with her dolls. One of them wakes up and she has to put her to bed, or something like that. But I think this is the first time that she made something up out of the blue, without a prop to assist her.
As a writer, it makes me gush with pride.
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A few nights ago, Anna called out for us about a half-an-hour after going to bed because she had to pee. In the bathroom, she looked at me and said, "I'm a bigger girl now. Does this mean I can touch sharp things?"
Yep, she's been waiting patiently to get bigger so she can play with knives. Should I be concerned?
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Earlier that same night she said, "Watch this," and walked over to a lion sticker on her wall and pointed to the freckles on its cheeks one after another. "Did you see that?" she yelled.
"What were you doing?" I asked.
"Counting in my head!"
I remember when I learned to read in my head. It was a big day for me and the realization that I could do it made me feel like a god. From her exclamation, I'd like to think she felt similar. We high-fived and then I hugged her for a few minutes.
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Anna took this photo:
I need a haircut.
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I explained the brain to Anna a couple days ago. I waved my hand and said, "My brain is telling my hand to wave. My brain is telling me to smile." Etcetera, etcetera.
So now every once in a while she'll say something like, "It's telling me to walk slow," and I get all creeped out until I realize that she's talking about her brain.
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We order delivery from Pizza Luce once a month or so. After the delivery guy dropped off the pizza last week Anna asked, "Is there a Luce at Pizza Luce. I think the guy who brought pizza to our house is named Pizza Luce. His name is Pizza."
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Liam is crawling now, sort of. He moves forward, sort of crawling with one leg and pushing off with his other foot. He's also pulling up to stand and cruising all over the place. Pulling leaves off our plants, trying to eat books. He can wave goodbye, sign for more, clap his hands and smother you with open-mouthed kisses.
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Anna has started skinning her grapes. She's really good at it.
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