Attention Span

While T visited, we ate out for lunch at a sandwich/po-boy shop a few blocks from the house. We ate at a round table near the coolers where the varying drinks wait for purchase. Larien sat, eating her sandwich (grilled cheese, no soup), with one foot to the side of the chair.

A young man grabbed a soda, did a quick turn, and tripped over Larien's out-stretched foot.

"Oh, excuse me," he offered as he touched her shoulder ensuring that she was unhurt.

"Thank you," she replied.

I explained to her that she should sit with both her feet forward to keep people from tripping on her.

To that, she commented, "It was him who wasn't paying attention."

T and I laughed with too much mirth to make any response.

Underwater Sulking

T and I took the children to the pool twice while she visited. The nearly 90 degree heat and close to 100% humidity require a body of water for splashing and soaking. Joining the pool was not a cheap capital investment and the returns will not be counted in dollars, but our family will survive the hot summers here, which is not to be discounted.

As T and I were preparing to get into the pool, we kept Larien and Finwe out of the pool as neither of them can stand in the shallow end. This temporary ban is hard to swallow because Inwe, swimmer that she is, jumped into the deep end. We did allow the non-swimmer and soon-to-be swimmer to stand at the bench in the water near the deep end. Wouldn't that be sufficient for most kids? Finwe possessed the patience for me to take off my cover-up. I mean, excuse me for not driving to the pool in my suit only. I'm a grown up. I stopped wearing just my suit when in high school fighting the beach traffic.

Larien sulked, but not by crossing her arms or scowling. She laid down, under the water, with her face towards the bench. Perhaps a frown sat upon her face. Only the plaster knows.

If I kept a baby book, I would certainly list this as a newly acquired skill: Underwater Sulking.

The Making of A Princess

My middle child is a princess. Over the next few days I will attempt to explain why Phill and I say this about her. I do not define her as such to disparage her. She is what she is, delightful, loving with a severe sense of entitlement unlike that of her elder sister or younger brother.

Example 1:

As I dished out the noodles, she frowned, "I'm not going to eat that. I don't eat noodles anymore."

I sighed, took the bowl away and didn't put up a fight. We'd been swimming for a few hours; all of us were tired with our own demands for food. I cooked a grilled cheese sandwich for her.

When I set it beside her, she paused before grabbing it. She contemplated the plate with the single sandwich, nicely quartered into right triangles. "Um," she said while gesturing with her hands, "I usually get a bowl of tomato soup with my grilled cheese."

Implied in that sentence, delivered with such grace that the Queen of England couldn't do better, was that I would soon deliver the bowl of soup. I didn't. She frowned at me most delightfully for the remainder of the day.