This Week

1. So we're one week post-op, and old Tim without wisdom teeth is just a touch swollen and a tad yellow, but otherwise in fine form. If I could add one item to the post-op menu, it would be this: water, lots and lots of water. Those narcotic pain meds? They may leave you with a pwecious wisp, but they come with a few less desirable side effects as well. I'll say no more.

2. We've been working on time management strategies around here. We were chatting with someone recently, and he had an interesting view on something parents should attempt to impart to their children: a horizontal view of life. Think: dry erase calendars hanging on a bedroom wall, planners carried in backpacks. 

3. Ainsley is an interesting study in how children perceive time.

Ainsley, early one morning: Is today tomorrow?

Ainsley, a different morning: Is today next Thursday?

I remember Tim at age four. Tomorrow was The Next Day to This Day, and Yesterday was The Last Day to This Day.


4. Meanwhile, I think Tim would like to go back in time based on this short exchange:

Tim: Back in Mr. Darcy's day, all you needed to get a girl was good manners.

Me: How do you get a girl today?

Tim: No one knows, Mom. No one knows.


5. File this one under "How do you spell after-thought?"

Ainsley, on hearing plans to visit Disney World: Me and Auntie Kate are going to have so. much. fun. Are you coming with us, Mama? 

6. But most of the time she flat adores me, that girl of mine, and naturally I'm not one to discourage this. She's lies in bed at night  (that would be in our bed, just to be clear) and asks me to sing "her song". As I'm a child of the sixties and seventies, I turn to Karen Carpenter for inspiration:

On the day that you were born

The angels got together

And decided to create a dream come true

So they sprinkled moon dust in your hair

And golden starlight in your eyes of blue

It all unravels theologically, of course, as I'm fairly sure angels didn't have much to do with Ainsley's yellow hair or her blue eyes or her conception. 

But Ainsley was (and is) a dream come true.

7. Meanwhile I get lots of portraits, mostly entitled Me -- Before My Morning Coffee or Me -- Right After Kolbe Dumped the Last Ounce of Wine Down the Drain and Dutifully Loaded My Glass into the Dishwasher, Wow!, Isn't He a Servant? 

"I writed your name, Mama" Ainsley says, handing me her artwork. "No, I wroted it."

As Kolbe is wont to say any and every time I mangle the English language: Hash tag! English teacher!

Head over to Jen's to add you Quick Takes.