Lately, little Lilah has been looking through a lot of photos. She has been enjoying seeing Mama as a child, daddy as a child, and most of all she has enjoyed perusing the pictures from our wedding. Unlike me, Lilah wasn't present at her parent's wedding, so all she has to mark the occasion are these pictures. I'm dressed pretty alright. Her mom, however, is wearing just a stunningly beautiful dress. This said, it should have come as no surprise to me when I got the following message on my phone last night (which is a conversation between my wife and daughter):
Lilah said "I'm getting married. Did you know?" To which my wife replied "To whom?" Apparently, then, there was much giggling and Lilah informed Allison she was betrothed to a boy in class named Ira (he's a nice kid, mind you). Allison went on to ask if Ira was aware of what life had in store for him and Lilah said "No, I'm going to tell him, though." To which Allison responded in the only way she possibly could by saying "Okay. Your poor dad." And Lilah, again with no small amount of giggling I gather, said "Good luck, daddy."
I'm wondering if this conversation was spawned from the pictures and the pretty dress because, as it were, I would just buy her a pretty dress. I don't need a wedding to mark the occasion. And what am I to think when she's been in school less than a week and she's already getting married? I have a long and treacherous path ahead, I think.
My wife finally had her "Oh my God, the kid is paying more attention than I thought she was" moment. It turns out that, if your 3 year old tells you she is going to make you some wooden food in the microwave, she means it. And we don't have a low microwave; she had to climb up a stool and a counter to get there, then get it open and set the time and, I think, push "start." My wife immediately stopped it, but it's just one of those things where you start wondering what else you're doing on a regular basis the child is paying massive amounts of attention to. Next thing you know, she'll be telling us not to sweat it and that she'll make our coffee for us. Sidenote for the concerned: nothing caught on fire.
Today was Pajama Day in school! Lilah was alternatively excited and confused. Let me first rewind to last night, though. She made sure to be put to bed in the pajamas she was going to wear today to class lest we forget which ones she wanted and put her in something less desirable. We had also agreed that she would be taking her stuffed bear to school (his name is Rockefeller, but I'm the only one who ever remembers that) and she was ready to renege on this by the morning, but I convinced her the stuffed bear was the best course of action. She spent the morning excited and prancing around with various objects she had picked up from the floor. At one point, she said to me "Daddy, I have a picture of you." What I saw her holding was a patch that I owned, but never put on any clothes, promoting Gonzo the Great for president. My nose was offended at being thought of as so large. After a moment, however, I realized Lilah had another button with a picture of me (aged 5 or 6 when I was still cute as all get out and none of you will ever see lest your faces melt like you are looking into the ark of the covenent or, ya know, something that sounds more humble) and I apologized for thinking she thought I was Gonzo.
When we got to school, Lilah played in the slide room for a while and was looking pretty happy until school started. I don't really know what brought this on, but she began to act really sassy saying things like, when I said she could play in the room again later, "I want to play in here now!" And then she started saying she wanted to go home. It's hard to figure out what to do in situations like that because my brain and my heart say "Hey, reason with her" but there is also a small (very loud) portion of my braing that struggles with embarrasment. Finally, I removed her from the play structure and we stayed out in the hall while class started. I knelt down to her and asked her if she could please take yoga breaths for me. We love yoga breaths, they really make life easier because the extra air just curbs fits outright. She did some yoga breaths for me and I wiped her tears away, assuring her I knew that she was sad not to get to play in the slide room anymore, but she was going to have all sorts of fun in her pajama party. After a few more yoga breaths, I asked her if she was ready to go in and she agreed that she was. She went to the carpet with the other kids and lay down, sucking on her index and middle finger as she does when she puts herself to sleep (she's always been a self soother) and I realized the issue. It wasn't that she didn't want to stop playing, it was the confusion of being in her pajamas with a teddy bear who lives solely in her bed, and her preferred sleeping blanket. I felt like I had really dropped the ball in explaining things to her, but luckily it all worked out.
When the parent involvement time ended, I told her she could go play and she seemed genuinely surprised. I let her know that she could take the bear with her all around the classroom, but to simply leave the blanket on the carpet for later. I kissed the top of her head, said I love you, and she was off. I'm trying to get her to say goodbye, but I don't even think it ends up being on her radar that I am leaving. I may have to interview her soon to see where she thinks I go on school days.
That wraps up my blog-heavy week and next week, the thing to look forward to most of all is that I'm going to get to volunteer in the classroom which should be all sorts of fun because these kids really do seem awesome and their parents and the teachers are all great and welcoming, as well.