It (was) getting warmer and then *wham* we get hit today with and dark and dreary day. Which goes hand in hand with the fact that I've been getting slammed at work for the last 2 weeks and, guess what, today we come in and find out that the deal is dead, done for, kaput. All that work down the drain. As a new lawyer, I'm still finding the death of deals rather depressing. And I know I shouldn't take it personally, cuz it's not like we're not going to get paid or anything like that.
Anyways, because it's been warming up, I've been doing my traditional spring reorg - you know, putting away the too heavy jackets, hats and mittens, storing away the winter weight comforters. I also started putting away our three space heaters (we keep one in the living room, one in the bathroom, and one in the girl's room). The bathroom heater is a tiny one - it sits on top of the toilet, and I had taken it out of the bathroom and (temporarily) put it in the living room next to Loo's chair, where I promptly forgot about it for a week. Loo had, during the week, pointed it out to me once or twice, asking why it wasn't in the bathroom and why it was there, next to her chair.
Last night, when we were playing in the living room, Loo accidentally stepped on the prongs of the power cord, which probably caused her some pain (though there was no puncturing of skin). She put her little fists on her hips and said to me, "Mama, that's why I keep tell you to put it away."
I always thought I would start sounding like my mom when I became a mom, but I wasn't expecting my daughter to sound like my mom.
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Kalina is the ultimate can-do second child. Or at least she is in her mind. Truth is, she was a late bloomer (compared to Loo): whereas Loo was walking by her 10th month, Kalina didn't start walking until her 14th month. So even at this point, where she has more or less mastered the art of toddlering, she is no where near as competent as her older sister.
But this weekend, I was watching the girls from the front steps of our apartment building as Loo zoomed down the street on her tricycle (no worries, dad was following behind), while Kali, distraught at the idea of being left behind, followed seconds later, half running, half stumbling, yelling plaintively, "me too, me too."
Her other favorite phrase is "one mo' time," which she reserves for only the interactions she loves very best, like being raspberried on her tummy, and getting superman time from mommy.
She also likes one particular page in Todd Parr's Reading Makes You Feel Good, which shows a woman soaring over a city, a map in one hand and what looks to be the Himalayas in the distance. Kali returns to the page over and over, points to the woman and says "you can fly."
Now this is going to both show my age and show my uncoolness, but on of the Baby Talk movies (you know, with Kirsty Allen and John Travolta before he was the comeback kid), there was this toddler girl who was obsessed with Michael Jordan because she thought he could fly. Well, Kali's newfound interest in this flying girl has me a bit worried, and I'm looking at the tall bookshelves in our apartment with newfound discomfort, hoping that Kali does not, as the movie girl did, one day take matters into her own hands to find high grounds from which to execute some sort of takeoff maneuver.
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