Today Benjamin got to go on a field trip to the dam. I tried to explain to him what a dam was: somebody puts a big...thing...in the river to stop the water. He said, "Like a fence?" I said, "Well, a lot bigger than a fence." So he told Andrew that he was going to see a big fence.
I was packing his lunch this morning and Ainsley figured out that he was going to get to have a picnic. Apparently the giant fence didn't hold much draw for her, but a picnic lunch is something else entirely. I felt pretty bad telling her that she didn't get to go and, in a moment of weakness, I promised her a tea party.
I don't know who planted the tea party seeds in Ainsley's fertile little mind, but I take no credit. I think all parents try to get their children interested in toys and games that they played with as kids, hoping to be able to relive their childhood. I freely admit to force-feeding Ainsley dolls simply so that I could wrap them up in the little blankets and brush hair. But tea parties? I don't ever remember a time when I cared about tea parties. Dolls? Most definitely. Playing house? Of course. Playing school and crying when my siblings stepped on my imaginary students? Obviously. But not one tea party.
Nevertheless, a few months ago Ainsley started wanting a tea party. She got so desperate that I decided one weekend (when the "boys" were all up in Deer Park visiting Grandma and Grandpa Helm) to just get it over with. We went to the thrift store and picked up some mismatched tea cups and plates. We even found a "tea blanket" (as she called it) on which to spread it all. I thought to myself, "Alright, we'll have a tea party. She'll get it out of her system and we can get on with more meaningful playtime pursuits...like Cabbage Patch Kids."
Every parent of a three year old daughter is laughing at my naivete. Not only did this not get it out of her system, but it fueled the fire. She has been begging for a tea party every hour of every day since. Cue this morning when, in a fit of maternal empathy, I promised her yet another tea party.
An outside tea party ended up not being an option. We started out there, but soon realized the dirt under the grass where she had painstakingly laid her "tea blanket" was sopping wet. So we took our soggy bottoms inside and had a tea party on the living room floor (note to self...I need to pick up some carpet cleaner next time I'm at WalMart...).
And I was reminded again of why I love my little Ainsley. She can be such a...girl--to the point where we have already started to butt heads a bit. She's sassy and emotional where Benjamin is even-tempered and mellow. I've always said she was going to be our little cheerleader because everything she does is done with the greatest enthusiasm--even exasperating her mother.
Lately she's taken to calling everything I do "beautiful." My spit-up stained sweat pants are beautiful. My unwashed pony tail with stray hairs sticking out all over is beautiful. The other day when I was tucking her in, I pulled away from her hug and she said emphatically, "Mommy...I think you are sooo beautiful."
Of course this morning when I gave her a kiss she said, "Mommy....you're kind of stinky." Nothing like a three year old to bring you back to the reality of morning breath. But that's a whole other blog entry.
One of Ainsley's greatest attributes is being thankful for the little things. She is so easy to please. She thinks mismatched tea cups and a second-hand tea blanket are beautiful. She didn't put up a fuss when we couldn't eat outside; she was happy to invite Mede and his teddy bear. She just wanted her tea party.
And she never once complained about not getting to see the giant fence.
I was packing his lunch this morning and Ainsley figured out that he was going to get to have a picnic. Apparently the giant fence didn't hold much draw for her, but a picnic lunch is something else entirely. I felt pretty bad telling her that she didn't get to go and, in a moment of weakness, I promised her a tea party.
I don't know who planted the tea party seeds in Ainsley's fertile little mind, but I take no credit. I think all parents try to get their children interested in toys and games that they played with as kids, hoping to be able to relive their childhood. I freely admit to force-feeding Ainsley dolls simply so that I could wrap them up in the little blankets and brush hair. But tea parties? I don't ever remember a time when I cared about tea parties. Dolls? Most definitely. Playing house? Of course. Playing school and crying when my siblings stepped on my imaginary students? Obviously. But not one tea party.
Nevertheless, a few months ago Ainsley started wanting a tea party. She got so desperate that I decided one weekend (when the "boys" were all up in Deer Park visiting Grandma and Grandpa Helm) to just get it over with. We went to the thrift store and picked up some mismatched tea cups and plates. We even found a "tea blanket" (as she called it) on which to spread it all. I thought to myself, "Alright, we'll have a tea party. She'll get it out of her system and we can get on with more meaningful playtime pursuits...like Cabbage Patch Kids."
Every parent of a three year old daughter is laughing at my naivete. Not only did this not get it out of her system, but it fueled the fire. She has been begging for a tea party every hour of every day since. Cue this morning when, in a fit of maternal empathy, I promised her yet another tea party.
An outside tea party ended up not being an option. We started out there, but soon realized the dirt under the grass where she had painstakingly laid her "tea blanket" was sopping wet. So we took our soggy bottoms inside and had a tea party on the living room floor (note to self...I need to pick up some carpet cleaner next time I'm at WalMart...).
And I was reminded again of why I love my little Ainsley. She can be such a...girl--to the point where we have already started to butt heads a bit. She's sassy and emotional where Benjamin is even-tempered and mellow. I've always said she was going to be our little cheerleader because everything she does is done with the greatest enthusiasm--even exasperating her mother.
Lately she's taken to calling everything I do "beautiful." My spit-up stained sweat pants are beautiful. My unwashed pony tail with stray hairs sticking out all over is beautiful. The other day when I was tucking her in, I pulled away from her hug and she said emphatically, "Mommy...I think you are sooo beautiful."
Of course this morning when I gave her a kiss she said, "Mommy....you're kind of stinky." Nothing like a three year old to bring you back to the reality of morning breath. But that's a whole other blog entry.
One of Ainsley's greatest attributes is being thankful for the little things. She is so easy to please. She thinks mismatched tea cups and a second-hand tea blanket are beautiful. She didn't put up a fuss when we couldn't eat outside; she was happy to invite Mede and his teddy bear. She just wanted her tea party.
And she never once complained about not getting to see the giant fence.
2 comments:
Yay for blogging! I had no idea that you had started blogging. I will now feel so much more in touch with your kids and their misadventures. Simultaneously I'll be able to enjoy your writing--I love it.
P.S. I had to come back to verify that Ainsley looks just like her cousin Kira. And she does!
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