Everybody needs a friend. I got Margaret a happy meal from Mcdonalds this week. Along with the ingredients for childhood obesity the red box from the Golden Arches contained the prerequisite kids meal toy. It is a blue ball that turns into an blinking creature when you press its bottom. Ah yes, the magic of childhood. In between the french fries and arguing over whether she would eat some of the apples (she would not) Margaret and this toy had developed some sort of eternal bond. Bluey Ballie (according to Margaret that is the creature's God given name) has not left my daughters side once in the past forty eight hours. They eat together, watch TV together, hold hands while walking down the street together. My three year old seems determined to be the narrator for her blue friends new life. Most of our conversations now go something like this,
Margaret, Keeper of the Ball: Megan! Megan! What is your favorite food, Bluey Ballie said.
Me: Hmmm. Tell Bluey Ballie I love taquitos.
Margaret, Defender of the Blue: Mommy, I am not talking. Blue Ballie is. That is why I said "Bluey Ballie said." Do you get it?
Me: Oh. Well, Bluey Ballie, I like taquitos.
Margaret, Holder of the Toy: How VERY interesting, Bluey Ballie said.
We may need to get her out to more play dates with real live children, Meggy Mommy said.
Tortillas adhere to the law of diminishing return. Shocking that freshly made, pillowy flour tortillas can lose their favor. But I think I ate at least five dozen of them this week. Some were covered in butter, others topped with cheese, I even went crazy and filled a few with vegetables. I didn't really notice how many we had eaten until Riley turned to me last night at dinner and said, Do you realize this is the seventh tortilla you have served me...today?
Yes, yes I do. Now eat up because we are having tortilla bread pudding with tortilla infused cream for dessert.
And finally, Sometimes we just need to take a breath, let go and sit down. Viola has forgotten how to get down from a standing position. The knowledge just seems to have disappeared into her dreams one night. So she pulls herself up onto the couch, holds on tight and stands there until her legs and arms shake. And then I find her, my little jelly limbed baby, screaming because she is tired and doesn't know how to let herself rest. I think as a mother to two children there is a lesson to be learned here. Perhaps about the risks of overextending yourself or the necessity of asking for help. How many times do we cling to the edge screaming, when all we need is someone to remind us how to sit the heavens down? So I walk over to her, take her into my arms and whisper into her sweet soft ear,
Don't worry, Viola Honey. You will figure it out. And I will be here until you do.
Have a great weekend.