Sunday, March 15, 2009

Liar, liar, pants on fire

Fiona is fibbing! It's always about the same thing - poop - which, overall is a good sign, I think. Of course, a mom of a toddler in diapers will see anything as a sign that using the potty is just around the corner. But anyway, tonight I asked Fiona if she had pooped (I knew full well that she had - everyone in the house and very likely several of our neighbors knew she had - it was a bad one) and she said, "No." She's been doing this, saying "no" when you ask if she's pooped. She also hides away to do the deed. BUT, she is unable to resist the opportunity to brag about the poop, and her ability to lie isn't all that sophisticated, because if you say, "Is it a big poop, or a little poop?" she always answers proudly, "Biiiig!" But tonight she caught herself. After she told me it was big, she said, "Not 'ere, poop." I let Ben change her...

Health Food Junky
Rachel is taking swimming lessons. Again... She has taken them in the past, usually with disastrous results. The first time, she accidentally lost her grip on the side of the pool and slipped under water. She was never in any danger, and never has been, but from that moment on she has regarded swimming lessons as a death sentence, sure that she will not live through the half hour. We have had fits, screaming, loooots of crying, and plain old refusal to do anything but sit on the edge and watch the other kids swim. Lengthy hiatuses from lessons have had no effect. Until this time. I signed her up for lessons at the YMCA in the neighborhood, and told her that it was her tough luck, she couldn't get out of it so she might as well enjoy it. That was really what I said, and you know, she bought it. She still complains, but she is really having fun (BIG smile on her face the whole class) and doing very well. She is somehow the strongest swimmer in the class and after two classes the aquatics director has suggested that we might just move her on up to the next level. Wow!

Anyway, I am not completely insensitive and have offered her treats after class for a job well done. After the first class we went to the chocolate shop in Del Ray. Mom had more fun there, and it was a bit pricey for a weekly treat. I was casting about for some alternative (and thinking about the cupcake shop in Old Town I'd heard about). But when Rachel made interested noises at the vending machine, I capitalized on it. So, did my dear daughter choose the granola bar? The animal crackers? The baked chips? Oh no, she chose (I can't even believe this) the TWINKIES...

Someday she will be a total health food nut and I will taunt her with this tale. I tried one, they really are ghastly, but she snarfed down the other three in the package. She hasn't popped out with a tumor, but I'm sure it'll happen any minute.

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