The Science (fiction) of the Lambs

Weird things happen when you have children.  Not everything is what it seems to be and every object and person is dynamic, meaning it/they can change in the blink of an eye.  I often wonder if a gremlin is about, mucking things up.  The books that I just put back on the bookshelf seem to leap back onto the floor when I turn my back to put blocks back into the shape sorter.  This happens without much time elapsing or sound to indicate the source of the disturbance.

Maybe it’s over 3 years without proper sleep, but sometimes things seem impossible.  Not in the sense of impossible to do or cope with, but impossible to be/occur in the first place.  Like how such small people can be so impossibly loud.  It just doesn’t make sense.  My daughter is the loudest person I know.  The other morning she hijacked a pair of my shoes and went streaking up and down the hall.  She sounded like a bloody locomotive.  And these were rubber-soled flats – not heels!  It was deafening.

The old adage of “children should be seen and not heard?”  Hogwash.  Those old-timers must have beaten or drugged their children.  Mine even make noise in their sleep.  To me a “quiet child” would be about as rare and beautiful as a unicorn.  I’ll also probably find a unicorn before I discover a quiet child in my household.

We talk a whole lot about mermaids.  Stella’s a mermaid, of course.  Unless she’s Tinkerbell, Marshmallow, Ursula, or Peppa Pig.  But usually she’s a mermaid.  She transitions seamlessly between the different personalities with little to no warning.  While she’s quick to own being Ariel or Tinkerbell, she’s a bit more reluctant to acknowledge being Ursula or Marshmallow.  But I see it.  Yes, I do.  And I most definitely hear it.

Felix is starting to demonstrate imagination as well.  During a recent outing to a Vietnamese restaurant, he was watching us eat with our chopsticks very intently.  He decided that he simply must have a set of chopsticks.  After Will finished his lunch, he wiped them off and handed them to him.  He held them semi-correctly for a bit, even stabbing at a goldfish cracker or two.  Then they became a lightsaber and ultimately drumsticks.

Gimme some of that vermicelli salad!

Gimme some of that vermicelli salad!

You are NOT my father!

You are NOT my father!

Everything feels epic somehow.  The noise.  The activity.  Hell, even the plants in my garden just seem larger than life.  Either that or I’m shrinking.  Down the rabbit hole, I guess.

Sunflower as tall as the house.

Sunflower as tall as the house.

Squash-zucchini thing almost as big as my son.

Squash-zucchini thing almost as big as my son.

And for what it's worth....

And for what it’s worth….

Happy 4th of July

Happy 4th of July

'Merica!

‘Merica!

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About larva225

Working mom. Is there any other kind? Geologist. Nerd.
This entry was posted in life, Parenting and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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