Sep 21, 2011

Toasty buns

Yesterday, I was helping Jen with her homework about the earth's rotation. I was trying to make her draw out a deeper explanation of why she chose a certain answer. Yeah, it's kind of mean, but i want to see WHY she thinks a certain way.

So, the earth's rotation---anyways, we were discussing how when it's cold here, it's Summer in Australia because of the tilt of the Earth's axis. When you look at the picture of the tilt, I can see how it could be a bit confusing. Lucky for Jen, I had just turned off the oven, so I figured i'd use that to my advantage.

We stepped over to the oven--"Let's pretend the oven is the sun," I said, and opened the oven door.
Jenna: "It's not very hot."
Me: "It's hot enough."
Jen: "But it's not as hot as the sun."
Me: "Yes. I. Know. But let's just pretend. Okay, so this is the sun, and you're the Earth."
Jen: "I'm not round."
Me: "I. KNOW. We're pretending. YOU'RE the Earth, and the OVEN is the sun. Get it?"
Jen: "Okay."

Seriously. This kid and her literalness (is that a word) kills me.

Me: "So, tilt your head towards the oven. Your head is the Northern Hemisphere, and right now, it is Summer. Why is that?"
Jen: "....."
Me: "Because the sun is...."
Jen: "Close to my head."
Me: "Yes, exactly! Now turn around and bend over. Your bottom is the Southern Hemisphere. Why is it warm?"
Jen: "Um...because my butt's in the oven??"


Sep 13, 2011

The Munch is EIGHT

On September 10th, the wee Clairey turned EIGHT. I was still grasping seven. I told her that since she's so small, we can still just pretend she's 7--give me another year. She didn't go for it. Crap. And so, another letter (albeit a few days late) begins...

You are now eight years old. Holy crap. Where did the time go? I swear, I ask myself that same question every.single.year. And here you are--a big eight-year old. Well, not really 'big' are still teeny-tiny, but jeez almighty kid, you have a personality that doesn't quit. I've said this before, and i'll say it again--you are a light. Like absolute sunshine. There's really no better way to describe you. YOU, in and of yourself, are simply infectious. Somewhat like a  transmittable disease but full of complete awesomeness instead of death and destruction.

Yes, you are 8 and I still threaten to eat your face at least once a week. Okay, so maybe twice a week. Oh hell, you know I do it every day, and then I sneak in your room when you're sleeping and nibble on your cheeks--so HA HA! Mommy wins. You lose. But I can't help it. You have the most precious little face--such rosy little cheeks and nummy freckles. You are too cute. And one day a long, long, LONG time from now, you will be 16 and I will still be eating your face. I'm just happy that you don't fight it. In fact, you've taken to yelling, "Mommy! Eat my face like a goat!" Acceptance is the first step--looks like you're on your way.

You do so well in school, and all the teachers love you--particularly, since you told your first grade teacher that I was a whore. When I came to eat lunch with you that next week, the secretary saw me and busted out laughing. When your mom's a whore, word travels fast, I suppose. When we went to meet your 2nd grade teacher, I introduced you and she said, "So THIS is Clairey." Why yes, yes it is. This is THE Clairey. I'm sure there will be many more fun stories THIS year--can't wait.

In October of last year, you made a big decision. After 5 years at your current gym, you decided that you wanted to change gyms. You told me that you were getting bored and wanted to try out someplace new. So we did, and we switched gyms, and you have just amazed me with the way you have improved over this past year. Your dedication to gymnastics, at 8 years old, is something that most people don't have to ANYTHING. Because of this, you often have to make difficult choices: you don't get to play like most kids your age, you don't get to 'try' anything new...and you are fine with it. Every time you bring up how you want to audition for a play, I'll say, "Okay, but you'll have to make a decision--theatre or gymnastics." Then you act like I'm a complete fool for even asking the question.

Speaking of which...

This summer you were in the musical "Annie." You played the part of Molly, and child, you stole each scene you were in. Yes, I ended that sentence with a preposition. Moving on... The crowd loved you; that part was so entirely perfect for you, that I wanted to cry every time you came on stage. And now, I want to cry every time I watch the videos. Which is a lot less now that it's been over a month. But not a WHOLE lot less. Because you're so damn cute and funny and talented, and it's so fun to watch!

You are dynamite in a small package. You have the sweetest heart and are such a loving little girl. My bedside table is full of drawings and knick-knacks and other stuff that you make for me. Every paper you bring home has, "I [heart] Mommy" written on it somewhere. You are just so full of love.

I am so proud to be your mommy. My sweet baby...I love you SO very much.

Happy Birthday my presh!