Annacdotes 18

This is on a recent horseback riding trip at Bear Lake. I love Anna's faraway look and how it looks like she just popped up right in the middle of all the brush.

Here's a double dose of Annacdotes today so I can catch up. Happy First Day of Autumn, y'all.

1. A split-second conversation:

Anna: What's that kind of nut . . . 'alnut'?
Me (thinking, Um, obviously...): Walnut?
Anna: No....
Me: No? Almond?
Anna: YEAH!

I just loved how I never before realized how interrelated those words are. I have Anna to thank for so much insight and can't blame her a bit for her confusion.

2. After finishing her bedtime story the other night, I closed the book and said, "Well, that was fun." Anna said, "No, it was courageously unusual."

3. I chuckled about this (#2), and then we finished the bedtime routine. As I was on my way out the door, I said, "What did you call the book? 'Courageously' what?" She said, "'Courageously unusual.' Now go write it down and then tell everybody else." She knows me all too well.

This and the next photos are courtesy of a trip to the zoo.

4. In a recent prayer, Anna said, "And please bless me that the next time I eat avocados and asparagus they will taste good to me." She tries so hard.

5. A few weeks ago, Anna started talking about her name and how she didn't really think that it fit her. (She loves "Summertime," but didn't think "Anna" was a good fit.) I love her name, so I tried to hide my shock when I asked her what she thought would be a better fit and even suggested a few. She rejected nearly all of my suggestions but eventually settled on Erica. A short time later, I was relating this story to her aunt and, when I got to the part about how Anna didn't feel like her name fit her, Anna chimed in and said, "Yeah, it doesn't fit my beautifulness." I guess she thinks it's kind of plain.

She was super excited that she got to ride the dolphin. Super mega excited.

6. Anna was telling me about a ride she took on her dad's shoulders. She was excited that she actually enjoyed it. (She's fairly cautious when it comes to heights and risky behavior like that.) She said, "Mom, I rode on his shoulders and I liked it!" She paused for a moment and then said, "Well, I liked it more than falling."

7. I've written about Anna's silky blanket before. She's still attached, although she no longer sucks on her fingers while cuddling with it. (She, like the mature child that she is, rid herself of that habit all on her own.) Anyway, she has given the blanket an official name (Silky Silky Blanket) and an official gender (female). She will correct you if you refer to the blanket as "it," but the nickname "Silk" is acceptable. I love her (my child, not her personified blanket).

8. Lately, Anna has been saying "Are you kidding me?" a lot. And with a little bit of attitude. One day, I asked her what was up with her saying that all the time. She said, "I don't know what's up with that. You should know what's up with that. You're the up girl." I just can't argue with logic like that.

9. A recent knock-knock joke, courtesy of Anna. (Although I think it may be more of a knock-knock creep out.)

Knock knock.
Who's there?
Blood.
Blood who?
I'm not blood! I'm a person made out of chocolate.
[then cryptically] Who are you?

10. This should probably go in the "Anna is a Little Adult" version of Annacdotes™, but I love this one. While some kids will, say, eat the middle of their sandwiches but not the crusts, going straight for the part that they like, Anna, however, will eat the crusts first so that she can finish with what she likes the best. She will methodically eat her vegetables first or whatever it is that she likes least so she can get to the good stuff. Where did she come from? I think she could teach us all a lesson about delayed gratification.

11. We were talking the other day about what makes a bad show. I told her bad shows were ones that were really violent or used bad words. She said, "Oh, right. Bad words like, 'I can't ever go poo' or 'What's in the toilet?'" I love that the only bad words she knows are potty words.

12. A week or so into school, Anna came home and told me about a boy who came up to her and asked if they could be friends. I asked Anna what she said in response, and she said, "I told him that I think we should learn some things about each other before we say we're friends."

Even more old lady names

I've got quite a list going for the Old Lady Name Game. (Remember the original and the update?) Well, here are some more.

These were presented to me all in one day:

Nelva

Phyllis

LouJean

Eunice

Out of that lineup, I chose LouJean. By far. Even though there's mid-name capitalization. I've made my feelings known about Phyllis and Eunice is a close second, and poor Nelva. No way. So just Lou's not so bad.

Another banner day included:

Re Voe (??? Was this a typo?)

Deloa

Delora

Wava

I think I picked Deloa because Delora is too close to Dolores, Wava makes me think of huevos rancheros, and I have no words for Re Voe.

And some more since then:

Luene vs. Zelda

I chose Zelda, as I could already come up with a laundry list of nicknames for Latrine Luene who has gangrene . . . And besides, who didn't like this? The game was gold, for heaven's sake.

Another day I had to choose between these two.

Wilma

Iva

These aren't sooooo bad, but "the lesser of two evils" predicament always makes me think really hard. I think I chose Iva. It's close to Ivy, which is cute, and I'd rather not be likened to a Flintstone, which, obviously, is the definition of old. (And we all know Betty was the cuter one.)

Then another day, we found

Zoe Ann

(How do you think you pronounce that? Zo-ann? Zo-ee-ann? Whatever the case, it's a bit awkward.)

and Vilda

Vilda is pretty awful. Maybe even vile. I groaned when I heard it and Anna, wanting to get in on the fun, said, "Okay, would you rather have Vilda or . . . Piddle?"

And frankly, when faced with that alternative, Vilda didn't seem so bad.

As a sidenote, I was reading Anna an Ironman comic book she picked out at the library the other day. (Totally random, but I've got to encourage her well-roundedness, right?) Anyway, one of the characters was named Mavis, which is a pretty old-fashioned name. Not one of the worst, but still pretty dated. Anyway, later Anna said, "What was that girl called? The one with the pretty name?" Talk about paradigm shift. Anna didn't know it was dated, she thought it was pretty. And now I kind of do too.

Your favorite awful ones out of this bunch?

Crush revisited

Anna asked me the other day what "romantic" meant. I told her sort of what romance was, and she said excitedly, "Kind of like how I have a crush on Blake!" (Blake is the boy from her preschool last year that she almost incessantly said she was in love with.)

Surprised, I said, "You still do, even though you haven't seen him for three months?" I hadn't even heard her talk about him for three months.

Then she said, "Hey, we all have our places in this world. He has his and I have mine."

She sounds like such a modern-day woman. I hope they can work out their long-distance, completely uninvolved relationship.

The Big K

It is true that if you have a baby, he or she will probably grow up and one day go to kindergarten. But you don't think about this when you're in the hospital . . . or when the baby turns 1 or 2. I'd say you have a good, solid two years without thinking about it. Kindergarten is the last thing on your mind. Even if you try to imagine it, you can't.

But it is true. And it happened. Anna started kindergarten this week. I was taken back to two years ago, the day before she started preschool, and I feel kind of the same. Then, I took her shopping to pick out a backpack and we went out to lunch and got a special treat. I wanted it to be a special occasion. When we got home, I realized that I had to celebrate it or else I would cry. Truthfully, I was excited for a bit of a break and I knew she would love it, the little smarty pants. But it also meant that she had reached an important milestone meaning that she was no longer my little baby. Officially. I could no longer kid myself into thinking that because she had her own backpack now. And I wasn't around to see how things got inside it.

This time around, I'm honestly very excited for Anna. She loves to learn and she needs to spend more time around kids, as she gets quite a bit of adult attention around here. I think she will love the whole experience (because kindergarten is totally fun, right?). I'm also excited to have her busy and growing while I can do other things. I'm excited to have some more structure for her instead of the—though at times fun and relaxing and necessary—aimless pace of summer.

But I'm sad, all at the same time, for all that it means. She's now a part of the system. She has an even bigger backpack now. And this milestone is a kind of loss. I think this is another one of the beginning-of-the-end moments that all parents have to go through, probably so that we don't go bananas when the kid you've put a lot of time and effort into moves out and goes to college. It's just like when they learn to walk; it's bittersweet because you know that soon they'll be able to run away from you. Or when they learn to talk. It's so cute and miraculous at first, but then they say "go away!" for the first time and with perfect diction and it's not nearly as cute. Or like when they learn to write their name. Little do you know then, but soon they'll be signing their name on their first rent check when they leave you behind. (Ha ha. That one was lame.)

Or like when your child walks into kindergarten the whole first week of school without looking back. Not so much as a hint of "I'll miss you, Mom." The rational part of me says I'd rather have it this way over a whole messy crying scene as we part. And I think that this suggests that she is indeed old enough and she can handle it, but still. But still. It is the essence of bittersweet. At least she makes for a super cute kindergartener and is loving it so far. I guess it'll be okay. But maybe doing some backpack ballet might help.