I had just finished putting Tallulah to bed. Annabelle and Hyphen had been outside mowing the backyard. (she has her own little mower that she follows him with)I was in the kitchen washing some bottles and H came in for a beer break. "Annabelle just peed under a tree, and now she is lying in the grass." he said. I shrugged. She does that a lot. Pee under a tree and lie in the grass. I went outside and Annabelle invited me to come lie in the grass. H left out the part about how she was naked. We layed down in the grass and she said as I started to say something, "just lie down mama. Look at the branches. Look at the birds."
Think I just might.
Showing posts with label annabelle. Show all posts
Showing posts with label annabelle. Show all posts
Friday, June 3, 2011
Sunday, April 17, 2011
Go Lions!
checking out my muscles 
spinning 
not paying attention 
you gotta look good to play good I watched a soccer game yesterday, a real soccer game, where kids were running around the field and kicking the ball. It only took 7 weeks, but they were really playing a game. That's right, we put Annabelle in soccer this spring.
My dad says 3 is too young for kids to enjoy organized sports, and that may be true, but 3 is not too young for me to enjoy kids in organized sports. Here is what I took away from the whole experience:
1. Annabelle is really good at listening to her coach.
2. Annabelle is really good at soccer, and can kick the ball in the air and dribble and make goals.
But despite facts 1 and 2, Annabelle saves the good stuff for home, at practice and games she stays away from the fray, especially after she ended up at the bottom of a pile of three year olds. After that she told us soccer was "too loud" and that she "would rather sit on Papa's lap."
3. During three-year-old soccer, the "game" will stop if a train goes by, or a plane flies overhead.
4. People who ref three-year-old soccer have to be patient and flexible and go with the flo, especially when the "game" leaves one field and moves onto another one. They also have a special spot in Heaven.
5. People who coach three-year-old soccer sometimes have to pick up the goalie and carry them back to the goal when the goalie forgets that he is goalie and starts picking flowers.
6. Our head coach had a super great attitude and whenever we would lose, she would say we really won because we "had the most fun."
7. Somtimes three-year-olds score goals for the other team, but we cheer anyway. Sometimes three-year-olds almost make goals, and I like to call these "goals in my heart." We cheer for those too.
8. There will be much wailing and gnashing of teeth during three-year-old soccer.
9. Although, most parents are nice, there will be one jerky parent during three-year-old soccer, who gets mad when we lose, despite the fact that his kid was one of the kids who scored a goal for the other team.
10. At the tender age of three, parents of little boys are much harder on their sons and expect them to play and get after them when they don't, whereas parents of little girls, especially their daddies, hold them in their laps if they don't want to get out and mix it up (this was not an Annabelle specific phenomenon--one little girl sat in her dad's lap for the entire season--every practice, every game.) For some reason, this difference made me feel sad for our sons.
In the end, we had a great game. Annabelle actually played and got in the fray and ran around the field and was in the mix when her little friend scored the goal. When he scored the goal, we were all cheering so loudly that he came off the field and got high 5's from all the parents. We ended up winning 2-0. I was so excited it was like I was watching the last game of the '99 Spurs/Knicks championship series and 2006 Rosebowl at the same time. Annabelle ran up to us after the game and said "That was fun!" All the parents made a victory tunnel and the kids from both teams ran through it mutliple times.
We ended the season 1-6. Those goals were the only ones we scored for our team the entire season. But we definitely had the most fun.
Saturday, March 19, 2011
spring break 2011
The Magic Wand
Calling for geese with grandpa
Charlotte the Snail
Little Kiss
Sprinkler Magic
happy reunion
I was tired, weary actually, so spring break found us at grandma and grandpa's house, which meant Annabelle's days went something like this: Wake up late, at about 8:00, get dressed, head to the big house, eat a hearty breakfast of some kind of pork product, and then time to go outside and get on the swing. But since grandpa has not taken his shower, she has to wait patiently and ride her bike or scooter. When he finally comes out, she gets on the swing for about an hour. Grandpa pushes her and talks to his next door neighbor, who by this time has mosied on over for gossip and an 11:00 beer. Then she is done with the swing and gets in the sandbox. She finds a snail, which we kept as a pet, and kept alive, I might add, for an entire week. She names the snail Charlotte and goes about finding plants and a suitable place for him/her to live. Then we eat lunch and watch the birds at the bird feeder outside the kitchen window. Then more swing, bike, scooter, with a break for some shop time with my dad, where they drill holes into stuff. Then she comes inside and makes a mess or paints herself with markers which causes my mom to shoo her outside for a run through the sprinkler. Then more swing time or a trip down to the river to call the geese. Then supper, and a bath. Then we head over to the little house and she sits out on the back porch to watch the stars come out and listen to the sound of the night on my mom's lap while my mom tells her stories. Then we work on our Lenten project which is a prayer cross, where every night we tear out a piece of construction paper and write down the name of someone we want to pray for. I placed behind my mom and auntie and uncle dale and Johnathan the Lion at the Houston zoo but ahead of grandma's cats and papa, so I am feeling pretty good.
I was tired, weary actually, so spring break found us at grandma and grandpa's house, which meant Annabelle's days went something like this: Wake up late, at about 8:00, get dressed, head to the big house, eat a hearty breakfast of some kind of pork product, and then time to go outside and get on the swing. But since grandpa has not taken his shower, she has to wait patiently and ride her bike or scooter. When he finally comes out, she gets on the swing for about an hour. Grandpa pushes her and talks to his next door neighbor, who by this time has mosied on over for gossip and an 11:00 beer. Then she is done with the swing and gets in the sandbox. She finds a snail, which we kept as a pet, and kept alive, I might add, for an entire week. She names the snail Charlotte and goes about finding plants and a suitable place for him/her to live. Then we eat lunch and watch the birds at the bird feeder outside the kitchen window. Then more swing, bike, scooter, with a break for some shop time with my dad, where they drill holes into stuff. Then she comes inside and makes a mess or paints herself with markers which causes my mom to shoo her outside for a run through the sprinkler. Then more swing time or a trip down to the river to call the geese. Then supper, and a bath. Then we head over to the little house and she sits out on the back porch to watch the stars come out and listen to the sound of the night on my mom's lap while my mom tells her stories. Then we work on our Lenten project which is a prayer cross, where every night we tear out a piece of construction paper and write down the name of someone we want to pray for. I placed behind my mom and auntie and uncle dale and Johnathan the Lion at the Houston zoo but ahead of grandma's cats and papa, so I am feeling pretty good.
Tallulah's day goes like this: eat, happy, put stuff in mouth, suddenly and for no reason decide she is pissed, screams f0r what seems like an eternity, then nap. Repeat until 7 p.m. then sleep till midnight and then wake up every three hours.
My day goes like this: corral Annabelle, make sure the baby doesn't swallow leaves, nurse the baby, play with baby, curse baby, fuss at mom for fussing at me for letting the baby cry it out. repeat.
I really didn't want to come home, but on Thursday Annabelle announced that she missed her dad and wanted to go home immediately, because she "can't live without papa."
Which is just as it should be.
Saturday, September 18, 2010
tutus and lizards
My friend needed to run some errands on Friday and she dropped her son off at the house to play. When she got here, Annabelle was wearing every tutu she owns (3--one from the dollar store that my mom got her, one that was Audrey's when we were in ballet, and one I got her from target ) and several purses. She had put a headband and two bows in her hair. We had been playing dress up. My friend commented that I had a real girly girl on my hands.
Well, maybe.
We removed the tutus so we could play outside. Annabelle took off her shoes and was walking barefoot on the driveway--which is littered with half eaten green pecans that the squirrels have impatiently stolen. She found a lizard and chased it about for a while before she figured out how to catch it with her bare hands. We put him in a Tupperware with some grass and she named him Japi-yo. She played garden in her sandbox and planted cauliflower. Then she gathered sticks for her "firecamp." We had to sleep by the "firecamp" and while she gathered the sticks she said cowboy things like "giddyyap" and "ki-yi-yipee-yipee-yay." She also used her "cowboy rope" (aka the rope to her spinning top) to slap at things which is apparently integral at being a cowboy.
I told the kids that Japi-yo needed water with the hopes that he would escape while they were filling his house from the spout. He had turned green by this time and he did escape, but Annabelle was now an expert at catching lizards and he was quickly put back in his house and almost drowned before I could explain that he just needed a drop of water. He escaped again while they dumped the water but was caught once more by my girly-girl.
Then we had popsicles and got really, really dirty and had to go inside to wash off the sand, syrup, and assorted yard dirt.
Hyphen distracted them while I freed Japi-yo. Incidentally putting a red popsicle stick in his house did not make him turn red as we had hoped, he was just brown with a rather grumpy expression.
Well, maybe.
We removed the tutus so we could play outside. Annabelle took off her shoes and was walking barefoot on the driveway--which is littered with half eaten green pecans that the squirrels have impatiently stolen. She found a lizard and chased it about for a while before she figured out how to catch it with her bare hands. We put him in a Tupperware with some grass and she named him Japi-yo. She played garden in her sandbox and planted cauliflower. Then she gathered sticks for her "firecamp." We had to sleep by the "firecamp" and while she gathered the sticks she said cowboy things like "giddyyap" and "ki-yi-yipee-yipee-yay." She also used her "cowboy rope" (aka the rope to her spinning top) to slap at things which is apparently integral at being a cowboy.
I told the kids that Japi-yo needed water with the hopes that he would escape while they were filling his house from the spout. He had turned green by this time and he did escape, but Annabelle was now an expert at catching lizards and he was quickly put back in his house and almost drowned before I could explain that he just needed a drop of water. He escaped again while they dumped the water but was caught once more by my girly-girl.
Then we had popsicles and got really, really dirty and had to go inside to wash off the sand, syrup, and assorted yard dirt.
Hyphen distracted them while I freed Japi-yo. Incidentally putting a red popsicle stick in his house did not make him turn red as we had hoped, he was just brown with a rather grumpy expression.
Friday, June 25, 2010
the itsy bitsy pinches
Today, Annabelle grabbed my arm and pinched it, not maliciously, but it was a pinch nonetheless. I explained to her that it hurt and for her to be careful. She in turn said "Mama it was a little pinch, little pinches don't hurt."
Now here is where I beg to disagree. Once, when Audrey and I were little and were going to visit grandma and grandpa Audrey introduced me to the itsy bitsty pinches. We were bored and were in the back seat of the old red Buick and mom and dad were up front, doing the mom and dad thing, which means talking and ignoring all back seat activity unless there is high pitched screaming involved. Audrey said to me "and now it is time for the itsy bitsy pinches." She said it in a high pitched voice and drew out the itsy bitsy part and proceeded to give me the tiny pinches on my arm, and they hurt like fire ant bites. I was in horrible pain, but as usual, when my horrible pain was inflicted by Audrey, instead of screaming, I was laughing. It was pretty funny when you think about it, first you are sitting playing and then you are getting attacked by your cherubic-looking 4 year old kid sister.
I was telling this whole story to my mom and she said, incredulously, I might add, "I never knew about that."
Well, of course she didn't. Moms don't know everything that goes on between siblings--and thank God for that. But she sounded sad, and I felt sad, because I know in a few months time, I am going to have to share Annabelle with someone else. And they will have their own itsty bitsy pinches, and I will never be a part of it. And that is how it should be.
Meanwhile, I trained Annabelle, landlord Pearl-style, to say Audrey's famous tag line. I was curious, I wanted to see if Auntie remembered. We gave her a call and Annabelle said "Auntie it is time for the itsy bitsy pinches," and screamed with laughter. Auntie's response?
"Uh-oh, someone better start running!"
Now here is where I beg to disagree. Once, when Audrey and I were little and were going to visit grandma and grandpa Audrey introduced me to the itsy bitsty pinches. We were bored and were in the back seat of the old red Buick and mom and dad were up front, doing the mom and dad thing, which means talking and ignoring all back seat activity unless there is high pitched screaming involved. Audrey said to me "and now it is time for the itsy bitsy pinches." She said it in a high pitched voice and drew out the itsy bitsy part and proceeded to give me the tiny pinches on my arm, and they hurt like fire ant bites. I was in horrible pain, but as usual, when my horrible pain was inflicted by Audrey, instead of screaming, I was laughing. It was pretty funny when you think about it, first you are sitting playing and then you are getting attacked by your cherubic-looking 4 year old kid sister.
I was telling this whole story to my mom and she said, incredulously, I might add, "I never knew about that."
Well, of course she didn't. Moms don't know everything that goes on between siblings--and thank God for that. But she sounded sad, and I felt sad, because I know in a few months time, I am going to have to share Annabelle with someone else. And they will have their own itsty bitsy pinches, and I will never be a part of it. And that is how it should be.
Meanwhile, I trained Annabelle, landlord Pearl-style, to say Audrey's famous tag line. I was curious, I wanted to see if Auntie remembered. We gave her a call and Annabelle said "Auntie it is time for the itsy bitsy pinches," and screamed with laughter. Auntie's response?
"Uh-oh, someone better start running!"
Saturday, June 19, 2010
trials and tribulations
Yesterday, after a horrible night of sleep on Annabelle's part and consequently on my part, Annabelle was in rare form. Clingy and naughty all in one. She woke up geared to go to her friends birthday party, which was still a day away. This was explained to her and disappointment ensued. We went to get said friend a present. When kids are under 5, I generally get them clothes for birthdays, because clothes are like a present for the mom and kids have way too many toys anyway. So we went to Gymboree to get clothes. First we had to get dressed. Small battle over what to wear, huge battle over hairstyle. Annabelle's hair is long enough where we need to start putting it in barrettes or pig tails, but she resists completely, pulling them out shortly after they are installed. She likes to feel the wind in her hair, I guess. Then we made a pitstop at Alma Latina, with Hyphen, who took the day off, for a dose of chorizo. She had to sit in my lap the whole breakfast. Then a trip to Target, which got this response "No, No Target. I don't want to go to target, I want to get Andrew a present at Gymboree." Once we were inside, she insisted on walking, not riding in the cart. (in case you are wondering why I haven't smacked her yet, it is because she is two and is asserting her independence and I am trying to help her make "good choices" now, so she won't drink and do drugs in high school--or some other such nonsense I am currently reading in a parenting book entitled Love and Logic.) While at Target, looking at maternity clothes, she told me she was going to hide from me and hid in numerous clothes racks, squealing with laughter when I found her. Finally, I decided she was making bad choices and deposited her in the cart. Smallish tantrum.
Finally we arrived at Gymborre, which she enjoys because there is a tv. There was no one in the store save me and the salesladies. I felt free to shop without watching Annabelle too closely and I peeked over where the tv was to check on her only to discover Annabelle, naked as a jay bird, just finishing the removal of her panties, watching tv. Annabelle likes to be naked for reasons I have not completely discerned. (Note: when I told my mom this instead of laughing, she got quiet and she called me the next day and scolded me saying she could have gotten molested--I was impressed by the restraint on her part, she waited an entire day)
We got home and got ready for her first private swim lesson, which I had been talking up all week. I went to the kitchen, to talk to H and when I went back to her room, she had managed to get a bottle of baby powder and shake its contents all over her floor. She wanted to continue to shake it and I said she could do so outside. (Note: this is not the parenting book, this is me, remembering what it was like to be a kid, and how some messes were just irresistible.)
Swimming lesson? Disaster. Cried to entire time. Mind you, the teacher wasn't super great at getting acquanted with a toddler, she just got her in the pool and said, "let's see you kick."
We got home and I went to talk to H again, who was making lunch and when I went to her room, she found the sunblock and had squirted it all over the floor. This was at the point where I officially lost it and yelled (I am not a yeller mom) "What are you doin????????!!!!!!" And then I did the only thing that was humanly and lovingly and logically possible.
I called in the big guns. I got her father.
In our house, Papa rarely disciplines. If mama rarely yells, papa certainly does not. This is kind of an "apple of his eye house," where the Apple is loved and adored tremendously by her papa/pops/poppi.
I got the paper towels to clean up the mess and was about to walk in the room. H saw me and shooed me away. I could hear him gving her a quiet talk about being naughty and how "some things are toys and others are not and it is okay to play with your toys, but you have to ask mama and papa to play with the things that are not toys." Then I heard "do you understand me? Look at me Annabelle, look me in the eyes. Do you understand me." Then a quivering "yes. I sorry papa. I sorry I squirted this sunscreen." I walked in and scooped her in my arms and cuddled her and said "it's okay." To which papa replied and rightly so, "Actually, it's not okay, but we forgive you."
He went back to the kitchen and we cleaned up the mess.
After I was fnished, I followed him to the kitchen, and slapped him on the butt, pro-athelete style. "You are awesome. That was awesome back there. You are the best dad. Way to go." And he is the best dad, I challenge you, gentle reader, to find a better one....
Today? She is a cherub. A delight, a model citizen, that when in high school will carry packages for old ladies crossing the street and rescue little birds that have fallen from their nests, etc.
Tomorrow? Quien sabe?
Finally we arrived at Gymborre, which she enjoys because there is a tv. There was no one in the store save me and the salesladies. I felt free to shop without watching Annabelle too closely and I peeked over where the tv was to check on her only to discover Annabelle, naked as a jay bird, just finishing the removal of her panties, watching tv. Annabelle likes to be naked for reasons I have not completely discerned. (Note: when I told my mom this instead of laughing, she got quiet and she called me the next day and scolded me saying she could have gotten molested--I was impressed by the restraint on her part, she waited an entire day)
We got home and got ready for her first private swim lesson, which I had been talking up all week. I went to the kitchen, to talk to H and when I went back to her room, she had managed to get a bottle of baby powder and shake its contents all over her floor. She wanted to continue to shake it and I said she could do so outside. (Note: this is not the parenting book, this is me, remembering what it was like to be a kid, and how some messes were just irresistible.)
Swimming lesson? Disaster. Cried to entire time. Mind you, the teacher wasn't super great at getting acquanted with a toddler, she just got her in the pool and said, "let's see you kick."
We got home and I went to talk to H again, who was making lunch and when I went to her room, she found the sunblock and had squirted it all over the floor. This was at the point where I officially lost it and yelled (I am not a yeller mom) "What are you doin????????!!!!!!" And then I did the only thing that was humanly and lovingly and logically possible.
I called in the big guns. I got her father.
In our house, Papa rarely disciplines. If mama rarely yells, papa certainly does not. This is kind of an "apple of his eye house," where the Apple is loved and adored tremendously by her papa/pops/poppi.
I got the paper towels to clean up the mess and was about to walk in the room. H saw me and shooed me away. I could hear him gving her a quiet talk about being naughty and how "some things are toys and others are not and it is okay to play with your toys, but you have to ask mama and papa to play with the things that are not toys." Then I heard "do you understand me? Look at me Annabelle, look me in the eyes. Do you understand me." Then a quivering "yes. I sorry papa. I sorry I squirted this sunscreen." I walked in and scooped her in my arms and cuddled her and said "it's okay." To which papa replied and rightly so, "Actually, it's not okay, but we forgive you."
He went back to the kitchen and we cleaned up the mess.
After I was fnished, I followed him to the kitchen, and slapped him on the butt, pro-athelete style. "You are awesome. That was awesome back there. You are the best dad. Way to go." And he is the best dad, I challenge you, gentle reader, to find a better one....
Today? She is a cherub. A delight, a model citizen, that when in high school will carry packages for old ladies crossing the street and rescue little birds that have fallen from their nests, etc.
Tomorrow? Quien sabe?
Monday, June 7, 2010
puppet show
We were on vacation for a week, and now it is good to be home--back to the routine. Routine means that Monday is library day, and today at the library they had a marionette show. The show was Aladdin and I am pretty sure it was the same script from when I saw the production at Windcrest Elementary School, with maybe even the same puppets. Aladdin and Jasmine still had blond hair, which I suspect is historically inaccurate. Jafar, is of course, dastardly. They dimmed the lights for the show and as the show started, I was watching Annabelle. She sat, entranced, and after Jafar made his third appearance, she whispered "Mama, I want to go home." She said that every time Jafar had a scene.
Later that evening H asked her about the show. This is what she said.
"That bad guy was bad. He took the lamp. Aladdin is poor (she made her sad face with her pouched out lips when she said that). Princess Jasmine and Aladdin, they kiss. The Genie is a Genie. The bad guy is bad. He is bad. He is very bad. I don't like that bad guy."
Pretty much sums it up.
Later that evening H asked her about the show. This is what she said.
"That bad guy was bad. He took the lamp. Aladdin is poor (she made her sad face with her pouched out lips when she said that). Princess Jasmine and Aladdin, they kiss. The Genie is a Genie. The bad guy is bad. He is bad. He is very bad. I don't like that bad guy."
Pretty much sums it up.
Thursday, May 6, 2010
lessons learned
The other day we were reading one of Annabelle's favorite library books--Spot Goes to School. It is really a baby book, but she picked it out and likes to read it, and apparently do other things to it, because as I was reading it, I noticed there was a little bit scribble scrabble on it that wasn't there the day before.
"Who did this?" I asked.
She looked thoughtful for a second and whispered "Ann-belle"
I explained to her that you were never supposed to scribble on books, especially library books and that she would need to tell the librarian what she did the next time we went to the library.
"Tell librarian. Say--I sorry I write in this Spot book." she said.
"Yes, that's right. You will need to apologize."
So throughout the week from time to time, she would say something like "I write in Spot book. I tell librarian, I sorry I write in Spot book. Librarian say, that's okay, accidents happen." Periodically, when we would see someone, she would confess, "I write in Spot book" and push her little lips out and make her serious face, the kind of face she makes when she tells on someone for doing something wrong, like when she told me "Grandma drives too fast."
Anyway, Friday came , and our plan was to go to the library, turn in some books, check out some books and then go to Chik-fil-a and have super-delux fun on the playground while mama relaxed and drank her sweet tea.
Right before we went in, she made her little speech to herself and as always it ended with the librarian telling her, "that's okay. Accidents happen." She was full of confidence as she trotted into the library.
But then something happened as I held her up to the counter, got the librarian's attention and showed him the offending page. "Tell him what happened, Annabelle. Tell him what you did." She turn her head away from him and held her head down in what could only be described as abject shame. I prompted her a few more times and she craned her head as far away as she possibly could. The librarian was touched. He looked kind of like how I felt, like he wasn't sure if he was going to laugh or cry.
I was feeling bad for being so old school about something, and then the librarian said "I am going to have to charge you for it." Do whhaaattt???? Eleven dollars later, five of which was a processing fee, I was contemplating whether I should be truly old school and say that we would have to go home and eat peanut butter sandwiches, because I spent all of our Chik-fil-a money on the Spot book. But I saw no reason to punish myself as well.
Lessons learned
1. Annabelle learned not to write in books
2. I learned that honestly is not always the best policy at the Houston Public Library.
"Who did this?" I asked.
She looked thoughtful for a second and whispered "Ann-belle"
I explained to her that you were never supposed to scribble on books, especially library books and that she would need to tell the librarian what she did the next time we went to the library.
"Tell librarian. Say--I sorry I write in this Spot book." she said.
"Yes, that's right. You will need to apologize."
So throughout the week from time to time, she would say something like "I write in Spot book. I tell librarian, I sorry I write in Spot book. Librarian say, that's okay, accidents happen." Periodically, when we would see someone, she would confess, "I write in Spot book" and push her little lips out and make her serious face, the kind of face she makes when she tells on someone for doing something wrong, like when she told me "Grandma drives too fast."
Anyway, Friday came , and our plan was to go to the library, turn in some books, check out some books and then go to Chik-fil-a and have super-delux fun on the playground while mama relaxed and drank her sweet tea.
Right before we went in, she made her little speech to herself and as always it ended with the librarian telling her, "that's okay. Accidents happen." She was full of confidence as she trotted into the library.
But then something happened as I held her up to the counter, got the librarian's attention and showed him the offending page. "Tell him what happened, Annabelle. Tell him what you did." She turn her head away from him and held her head down in what could only be described as abject shame. I prompted her a few more times and she craned her head as far away as she possibly could. The librarian was touched. He looked kind of like how I felt, like he wasn't sure if he was going to laugh or cry.
I was feeling bad for being so old school about something, and then the librarian said "I am going to have to charge you for it." Do whhaaattt???? Eleven dollars later, five of which was a processing fee, I was contemplating whether I should be truly old school and say that we would have to go home and eat peanut butter sandwiches, because I spent all of our Chik-fil-a money on the Spot book. But I saw no reason to punish myself as well.
Lessons learned
1. Annabelle learned not to write in books
2. I learned that honestly is not always the best policy at the Houston Public Library.
Monday, April 19, 2010
Dot
Well, we have some progress on the whole "the world revolves around me" aspect of being a toddler. Used to be that if you asked Annabelle what something's name was her reply would be "Annabelle," or in the alternative "Baby Annabelle." Consequently, her favorite doll is named Baby Annabelle, as is her friend Cecilia's doll, which Annabelle took upon herself to name. There were also countless stuffed animals and other random things that shared this moniker.
Now, there is a sudden shift. Dot. Dot is the name of the pet worm she had me dig up from our "beautiful garden" and is the name of all new dolls, a random dog we saw and two squirrels in the park. Oh, and our unborn child. It's name is Dot too.
Dot. I like it, it's kind of spunky.
Now, there is a sudden shift. Dot. Dot is the name of the pet worm she had me dig up from our "beautiful garden" and is the name of all new dolls, a random dog we saw and two squirrels in the park. Oh, and our unborn child. It's name is Dot too.
Dot. I like it, it's kind of spunky.
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