My daughter is at that pivotal moment in her young life where she thinks she’s invincible. As if she didn’t think she was at a much earlier age – crawling to the top of the piano and standing up, crawling to the top of the kitchen table and running across it’s shortened top.
She watches cartoons with an understanding that, she too can fly, or jump off of some landing with the agility and grace as the characters on her cartoons can.
Earlier today I was sitting in the living room, reading, when I hear those dreaded words every parent of a daredevil dreads hearing, “Mommy come look at me. Watch me Mommy!” Before I can rush to stop her from what feat she thinks she must achieve, I hear a thud, followed by a groan and a “I’m okay.”
As if falling off the bed numerous of times with many ungraceful landings (mere bruises, thank goodness) would stop her, think again. It must be the attempt of correcting the landing to a perfection that has her crawling back onto the bed and jumping off of it again. How do you tell your little one that they aren’t Wonder Woman, or Spider Girl, or any other gifted superhero without really crushing their tender hearts and ruining their creative imaginations forever?
It’s honestly a tough job being a parent, but sometimes I have to pull on my big girl Mommy pants and march into her room and kindly tell her that her flying lessons are canceled for the rest of the day. I may have bruised her ego a little bit, but I saved myself a speeding ticket and an ER visit…for now at least.
It is always sad to hear of someone you grew up watching on TV or in the cinema has passed away. It is not only felt in Hollywood, but all across the globe as well. I honestly feel the depth of sadness from such a loss.
Though I didn’t know him personally, I feel I have gotten to know him as the talented actor on screen. We all have gotten to know him from the many roles he has played. So many laughs, so many great on screen memories we all have shared with our friends and families. There isn’t just one Robin Williams movie that I can pick to call my favorite, as they are all my favorite and shall always be.
My nephew Hunter’s 10th birthday was this past weekend. We surprised him with dinner, followed by cake, ice cream, and presents at gram’s house. Among his presents were two wrestling belts, one black and one white. Hunter was having the black belt opened, while mini me held on to the white one. Once the black belt was free of all wrapping, mini me handed the white belt to pop pop to be opened. Once it was free of all it’s wrapping, she took off running with it. She was gone about a few minutes, but returned to the kitchen empty handed.
My nephew, curious about what she had done with his belt, asked her where it was. She would only reply by changing the question. It only took us a few seconds to figure out what she had really done with it.
My sister Jaci, Hunter, and I spent almost two hours tearing up the whole house searching for that belt. Under the furniture, around, in, on, in every closet in the house, under every bed in the house, on dressers, in dressers, under dressers. We searched every inch of this house and in every spot we knew she would hide stuff, but turned up empty handed.
She had hidden it very well. She said it was hers and when we asked where it was, she would change the subject. She really wanted that belt. We searched her room, what we thought was thoroughly – under the bed, in the toy box, under the covers of her bed, under the mattress, all around the tv and dresser, even under. We searched the whole house again.
Then it dawned on me to look in the box of diapers on top of the dresser in her room – there it was. She started to cry as soon as she had seen we found it. “My belt,” she cried. I had forgotten she was good at hiding things – my lil Houdini!
We had a good laugh and teased about how she’s the reigning champion of hide and seek, if not the greatest little magician we’ve ever known. She can surely make things disappear. I’m guessing I’ll have to get her one of those wrestling belts for Christmas, if not for her birthday.