On Thud, and things...

( Some spoilers, not many )

So, earlier today, I had to run for the boat. And I ran slow, slow, s l o w l y to the boat, and it hurt after a few steps, and I hated it. Later, I went outside to buy some ice cream, and I started running, and it was fastfastfastFAST, and I ran a block and a half like that, and the ground was just flying away beneath my feet, and it was good, I *had* to run. Not to get there in time, but because my body said "run", and I ran.

But when I have to run for external circumstances, it's like wading through thick honey.

I've asked this before, and I'll keep asking it: Why? Why is it that when I run to catch something, I end up out of breath? Why do I notice how awkwardly I run, arms flailing around at my sides? But when I run to run, even though nothing *changes*, my breath is fine, my jaw doesn't hurt, and my arms are just *there*, like they are when I walk?

Here's a better question. Why is it that when I'm reading, or I'm watching something (and this is why I prefer to watch things when I can pause them, by the way), and I get up to walk or run so I can think, people get upset? I'm not making *them* get up, am I? But it's always "what are you doing?" and "where are you going?" and (occasionally), "why are you doing that?" and nobody seems to listen to "nothing, nowhere, because I want to". This is my own family, and they keep asking the same questions, like the answers will suddenly change. Oh, I'm running off down the block, yes dressed like this, because I want to rescue those poor kitties from the burning building. I'll call if I'm late. Oh, I decided to practice for the marathon, so I'll be running like this for a while, until I've covered 26 miles going from the kitchen to the living room and back. Oh, didn't you know "walk back and forth in your house often" is the eleventh commandment in the Bible? I've decided to start observing that one, in lieu of the other ten.

*shrugs*

Oh, and Ana can now answer the following questions correctly:

"What is your name?"
"How old are you?"
"What is the capital of Canada?"

However, she now thinks that Ottawa is the correct answer for any question involving the word "capital". Poor dear.

More people miss the point...

In the comments here.

We (well, I) read this book to Ana. She runs away so I can't hug-and-kiss her, but then she pops her head out from hiding and demands I read it again. And again. And again. It's the Snuggle Puppy book. Oooh, I love that book...

( Read more... )

I'm not really irritated by her righty-ness. I just say that.

I am not a pirate.

Were I a pirate, I would be actively fighting this blatant pirate prejudice displayed by mocking my traditional accent. Arr.

I mean. Um. Die, landlubbers?

*sighs*

Okay, fine. Maybe I am a pirate. But I don't have to talk like one. *nodnodnod* Those days ended with "Connie wanna cracker?" in my infancy.

On Ana's hair, and other things...

I wanted to get some barrettes, the sort that go at the end of your braids to keep them in place, because scrunchies don't stay on that well at the bottom of her braids, and she pulls them off, anyway, but my mom accidentally got the other kind of barrette instead, the sort that goes in your hair proper to keep it in place. We'll make do.

I feel better about her hair, though. ( Read more... )

So, anyway, Ana really is growing up very fast. Today, she was late for her nap. This was entirely my fault. But you know, kids who are late for their naps are cranky and snappish. So as we got off the boat, she's flipping out, she doesn't want to walk and she doesn't want to be carried. Eventually, as I'm carrying her, she raises her hand and says "I HIT YOU!". She doesn't, at this point, hit me. So I start in asking if she wants me to hit her, if she likes it when people hit her, if it's all right for people to hit her. She musters out a tiny "no" at the end of this, and I tell her that if that's true, she can't hit me, because that's not nice, and doesn't she want to be nice? Of course she does (I'm not giving her a chance to say no. I recognize that this is unfair, but my goal was for distraction, not in-depth discussions of her self-perception). And then she put her hand down.

This doesn't sound like that much, but given her mental state at the time, it's a major accomplishment. She was beyond tired, she was frustrated, she wasn't that happy - but she managed enough self-control *not* to hit me after she'd had the impulse to do so. I was really happy (not least because she hadn't hit me), and I told her so. That's really a big step, nice and mature.

We most emphatically did not speak like pirates today. We did recite Jim. Twice. I don't know why she won't chime in when Jenn or 'dul or Mommy are around, but she *really does* know several parts in it.

( Jim, who Ran Away from Nurse and got Eaten by a Lion )

Y'know, I do believe that I would like some icons from the Cautionary Tales made up for me. *nods self-righteously* Jim was such a part of our childhood....

Here's the book. You should all get it. And read it. You'll love it. And please, send a copy to me. For... um... the kids. Yeah. The babies.