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Tuesday, February 28, 2012

Birthday Number Five, the story

For the past few months Ellen has been asking for a "real" Barbie doll for her birthday. She has several 11 inch dolls, knock-off Barbies, if you will. But she knows the difference somehow; she wanted a REAL one.

I would rather she not have anything to do with Barbie dolls. I am not a Barbie fan; at all. However, you have to pick your fights. I have expressly forbidden anything "SpongeBob-ish" to appear in this house. Maybe I am wrong in this; maybe I should allow him and ban Barbie, but we all have our likes and dislikes. To me SpongeBob is much uglier than Barbie.

But I digress.

So I told my mom about the Barbie wish, and she said she'd get Ellen a Barbie. Behold an enchanted Ellen opening her Barbie:


Now behold what kind of Barbie my mother got for her. (Keeping in mind that you can hardly find just a Barbie doll; they must needs sell them in little sets or scenarios; jogging Barbie, baby-sitting Barbie, breakfast Barbie...etc)

Puppy potty training Barbie? Yep, you got it. You give the puppies a "drink" with their special bottle; make the girl puppy squat, or the boy puppy hike up his leg, then move their tail and they wet on their special paper that turns yellow in spots, and shows brown turds in other spots.

Lovely.

Let the paper pad dry and do it all over again.

My hubby and his family were not impressed.

I assure myself that she will soon forget this toy and I can make it disappear. But then again...maybe not.

Reflections on Birthday Number Five

Way back when I was younger and single I always wondered what would ever possess someone to have children. My main influence in this was my first nephew; he and my sister came to stay with us during his first 2 years of life. I was a self-centered 12 yr old...as most 12 yr olds are. I rensented the intrusion of a self-centered baby (as all babies are). At age 12 one sees all the trouble, work and distraction that go into raising a child. One does not see how a child can add anything to life.

When I grew old and married I began to see things differently. I began to believe that a child might add something to my life. Ellen came along soon after this revelation. But it was not until AFTER she entered our lives that I realized how much a child can add to your life. And how the trouble, work and distraction are more than compensated by love, laughter and the satisfaction of seeing a life being formed.

For five years I have marvelled at her growth, watched her personality form, and laughed with her.

What fun to see her smile!

Thursday, February 23, 2012

Just call me "Rock."

This blog is supposed to be about dairy issues, but it's more fun to talk about my child and her little eccentricities...if you could call it that.

On Monday she will be 5 years old. Sometimes I wonder if the things she does are normal or if a psychiatrist would find her a little off.

I guess pretending is normal; especially when you are an only child with no other playmates.

Lately she has been doing this roll playing thing where she asserts that she is no longer Ellen, but "Brionna" (who is actually a new girl at church)
and then she will ask me about Ellen; what's her favorite color, food...etc. She will continue in this vein for half hour or so. Woe betide me should I forget and refer to her as "Ellen."

When I am in the kitchen she generally refers to me as, "Mr Bakery Owner." She will come up to me and announce; "Hey there, Mr Bakery Owner, I am taking Charlie (the stuffed dog) for a walk. Just thought we'd stop in and say hello." Or she will just tell me whatever is going on, help with the dishes or cooking.

When we are out in the milk barn doing our chores she calls me "Rock" and pretends that we are in a train station. Do not ask me where she gets this one. "Hey, Rock, where is our next stop?"

Some other things she does make me laugh too.

While helping do the dishes she will sort the flatware in the holder; "The boys go over here, the girls go over there." The "boys" are the forks and the "girls" are the spoons.

Monday, February 13, 2012

Wanna Have a Good Time...?

Just come on over; there's no rules allowed here.



Ha!

When Ellen was much younger we made a sign of rules for her and posted them on the fridge. They are still hanging there, though most of them are pretty much outdated as they were more specific to her at a younger age. However, on occasion when we have to remind her that there are rules we must follow, she will get annoyed.

Also, ever since she has been old enough to notice and ask questions she has been fascinated with the slash/circle sign. She sees them all over; like over a picture of guns and knives on the door at the bank...etc. I told her it meant "No guns allowed."

So she put them together and come up with her "No rul allowed" sign. She left off the "es" when I was spelling it out for her.

This was actually a few months ago.

But now here lately she gets annoyed with the Matilda, the cat, who sleeps on her bed. (not that Ellen sleeps in her own bed, ever; she prefers the sofa...but that's another story for sometime later.) So Ellen made up her own "No Cats" sign. I am not sure if she thinks Matilda can actually read it or not. But she posted it on her bedroom door:


Of course Matilda is in there at this very minute, curled up on Ellen's bed.