Ball girl

Yesterday my pristine daughter had not a speck of playground sand on her little summer outfit at pick-up. How is this possible you ask? She prefers for God knows what reason to crawl on the sand (Sarah demonstrated that she crawls with her hand spread out in front of her so they run through the sand as she moves. The dirt in turn is deposited in her mouth when she stops moving and inserts her thumb). Despite many efforts to get her to walk over its uneven surface, she just won’t, so seeing as how she was not wearing something that covered her knees Michele and Sarah made a game time decision that her playground time would not include crawling because they didn’t want her to hurt her little knees. Somehow she still managed to get sand in her shoes, but I kind of enjoy emptying out the remains of her playtime and clacking the soles together.

We spent some time in the yard last night when we got home. Steve and I mulched the front of the house and swept off the patio in the backyard. I removed one last hosta that had somehow escaped the first round of Operation Hosta Removal. Caroline played with her big playground ball and rode around on Steve’s shoulders. It is amazing the difference fresh mulch makes. Bless you BJs for having a massive reasonably priced amount on hand for all our mulching needs.

We got some silly photos of Caroline last night during her post dinner pre tub playtime. Apparently a really fun thing to do is to take a little plastic ball and put it in your mouth, bite on it with your new teeth (found number 6 up top last night!) and then commence regular play activities. She was riding her giraffe, playing her piano, and reading books all with this ball in her mouth. If it somehow escaped her bite, she immediately retrieved it and put it right back where it belonged. I think this will be better for you when you can see the silly photos.

Just when we accepted this peculiar behavior, she shocked us by pointing out the ham on every single page of Green Eggs and Ham before bed. I would read the page and then ask her, “Caroline, where’s the ham?” and she would diligently point to the plate with the ham, or if it was big enough, the ham itself. There were a few times when she pointed to Sam, but I just called her silly and asked again and poof, ham pointing. To dispel any doubt you might have she even did the pages where the ham is placed on the left hand page (a rarity, don’t believe me, go look!). All those months of reading this book, asking her where the ham was, pointing to it, she was really following along! I have to admit that I felt kind of silly pointing out "the boat captain, and the goat, and the fox, and the mouse, and sam, and the green eggs and haaaammm," but wow, she gets it. She gets a lot more than we even realize.

Still something about this just doesn’t make sense. Enter Caroline, plastic ball in mouth, fully comprehending where the ham lives on each page in her book. A child’s mind is a mysterious thing.


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