Crunchy Thoughts

The thoughts are crunchier here.

three year old taco

She’s what? Three? Really?? Time flies when you’re laughing with a little brother. Of course, she corrected me the other day. She told me she wants to be ten.

She has the attitude for it.

I don’t think I ever got around to mentioning it, but Lydia had her very first haircut this past year. In fact, she’s had two visits to the stylist and has done well both times. Trimming her ends doesn’t do much for her crazy cowlick in the front, but it does keep her from looking too shaggy, and she does seem to enjoy being primped.

Lydia is such a ball of energy. She never can walk anywhere — she has to run. She is always on the couch then off again, then in your lap, then on the floor, then in the chair, then in the kitchen, then back in your lap, then upside down. We have got to get her into some gymnastics or ballet class soon or else we’ll see more stitches like what happened last fall (which was a gymnastics event gone wrong).

Lydia is like a little mother to Sam. I find her mimicking my words and mannerisms when she is talking with him: “Here, Buddy; it’s okay, baby. Have a bottle.” She looks out for him, hands him toys, and loves to make him laugh. She invented a game with him in the car that we call “Hey DaDa.” She looks away from him while saying, “Heyyyyyyy . . .” then flips her head back around to him real fast while screaming, “Da Da!” It gets him every time. I need to get a video of it, but in the meantime, enjoy this one.

Lately, she has gotten more into baby dolls and the idea of ‘playing pretend.’ One day on the way home from daycare she began saying, “Look, Mommy, look! A bird! See the bird? The bird’s crying.” I asked her why the bird was crying, and she replied, “He’s crying ’cause he needs medicine.” Then she pretended to give her pretend bird some medicine, which made it all better. With her baby dolls, though, she usually pretends that they have poopy diapers. “Ewwww, poop!” she screams. She’s a bit obsessed with poop and how yucky it is. I must react too strongly to Sam’s diapers.

Speaking of poop — because, hey, who can’t get enough of poop? — Lydia is potty trained, for the most part. As long as she has her trusty Elmo Panties she’ll TT (teetee? tii tii!) in the potty all day. Mind you, they better literally be Elmo Panties with his smiling red face all over, and you can ONLY find Elmo Panties at SEARS. Unfortunately, we’re still working on the poop thing. There’s not much pooping in the potty, which means Mommy is making lots of out-of-the-way trips to SEARS to buy more Elmo Panties.

One night in April, I sat down with Lydia and told her we needed to talk. We talked about how proud Daddy and I were of her with how she was using the potty and how she was getting to be such a big girl. And big girls . . . well, they don’t need pacis. So we should throw them away since they’re old and dirty and if she does that then she’d get a special gift. So Lydia gathered up her pacis and threw them away. My big girl strapped on her new big girl shoes.

So life just flies on in the Land of Lydia. Every day there are new discoveries and there is always something to do. She likes to help us cook:

Waiting for cake takes forever:

And sometimes sharing can be hard:

But she has learned so much, more than just counting and her colors, she has learned the joy of making her brother laugh and the anticipation of a birthday party. She enjoys a good book and kisses before bedtime. We have conversations! We sing songs! And sometimes, she roams around the house and informs everyone that she’s a dinosaur.

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