The Kidling took a sick day Wednesday and I was the fortunate parent whose turn it was to stay home with her. And no, I don’t say that in jest. You see, when The Kidling gets sick, she is darned near her normal self. In other words, sick days are “force fluids/administer medicine/enforce nap time/and play” days. “Snuggle far more than usual” days. Oh, and “indulge The Kidling’s whims because a sick kidling breaks my heart” days.
See why I was glad it was my turn to stay with her?
Because I got to let Alice sleep in, when I got back from my morning run, I sat down at my computer and leisurely tended to the book of alice. I responded to long-neglected blog comments (you might have noticed) and perused my notebooks for little Alice gems around which to build a story. Then, I spotted one from another sick day late last year.
On this particular sick day, Alice and I must have had one of our “I love you/I love you more” arguments. This is the very best kind of argument, as it is impossible to lose. Alice sealed her victory when she took my face in her tiny hands and turned my head to the side. Then she placed those little hands on my shoulders and whispered in the voice reserved for her most sacred secrets, “I love you more than Clifford and a giraffe stacked on top of each other with. Clifford first. And. The giraffe second.”
Cue melting heart.
The Kidling has, on numerous occasions, said things that indicate her ignorance of the nature of work. Which makes sense, given that she is only four. She’s a smarty-pants, but we haven’t yet added her to the list of family wage earners.
The Dada and I have tried many times to explain what exactly it is we do all day. It ain’t easy. For whatever reason, our jobs are difficult to put into kidling terms. I, for example, help people find work. So, to Alice, The Mama goes to work to help people work. It is a little circular, you know? I can’t say I blame her for her lack of clarity.
Regardless, it must be clear to her that her parents really like their jobs. Because she thinks they go a little something like this:
Alice: How old are you? 24?
The Mama: No, I’m 33.
Alice: Will you just write down how old you are? Stick it on my Clifford robot so I have it when you come visit me at work.
The Mama: (writes “Mom is 33″ on a slip of paper)
Alice: I’m gonna make my office a jungle adventure for my puppy. I’m gonna make my whole office an adventure for my puppy! So he doesn’t have to. Walk around outside. And. Get bored.
I have to bang around a few things to make Robot Clifford. Sand… Wood… and… A few nails… Oh yeah! Oh yeah!
Please do not inform The Kidling that, no matter how terrific her future career, she probably will not be making jungle adventures for Robot Cliffords. She’ll figure it out in due course.
The Kidling is very good at losing things. She is especially good at losing marbles. Specifically, losing marbles under very low-to-the-ground and near-permanent fixtures.
Case in point, the stove.
Yes, last week, Alice lost a marble under the stove. We tried several kitchen tools to no avail. None was quite the right size to retrieve the lost ball of glass. Then Alice had an idea. She pointed to the space under the stove and observed:
“If Clifford’s leg was smaller than that and it could fit and he was real and could come out of the TV, then he could get it out.”
Indeed, Alice. If only…