Fuzzy Math. In three parts.

Part I:
Set up:
I called ahead to the auto mechanic to ask if there was a wait to get an oil change.  I had a break for lunch but didn't have a tremendous amount of time before my next appointment.  The woman on the phone assured me that it wouldn't be a problem.  She said "Once you are in the shop it only takes about 20 minutes."

Part II:
Upon arrival:
Me: Hi there. I called about 5 minutes ago about the oil change.
Her: oh yes.  It will just be a little bit.  There's just one car ahead of you and then one more. 
Me: So wait, that's two cars ahead of me?
Her: Well just the one that is next and then the one that is after that.
Me (in my head): Right.  But that's TWO cars.  It doesn't matter how many times you say the word "one" - the number of cars is still two. 
Me: (out loud): Great, I'll wait over there.  Is that a rerun of Rosanne playing on the television?  Awesome. 

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Inadequacies

If I'm being honest with myself, I struggle to get dinner on the table almost every single night.  It's not that I DON'T get dinner on the table.  I do.  It's just not particularly good.  I have a few stand-bys that are my go-to meals . . . but how often can one possibly prepare turkey burgers or chicken piccata?  Ideally, I like to be able to throw less than 5 ingredients together, add heat, and call it done.  The less measuring utensils I have to use the better. 

All this to say that my kitchen inadequacies were grossly highlighted tonight when Husband arrived home, after a full day at his job (which is way more demanding than tutoring high school math - by the way), and proceeded to prepare (from scratch!) panko crusted chicken, pesto pasta, and a mushroom and onion cream sauce.  And not the short-cut cooking that I do (where you add Italian dressing to the chicken and call it marinaded).  He actually put multiple ingredients together in a saute pan and MADE A SAUCE.  Oh well . . . at least I still have nicer handwriting. 

Time Out

As Lola nears her second birthday - we've had a few (seriously though, just a few) incidents that require a "time out."  Mostly because we tell her multiple times not do something (i.e. bang her cup on the table, jump on the chair, yell at her friend) and she continues to do it.  There is always a warning, and then I remove her from the situation, place her in the corner, and she sits for a minute. 
It seemed to worked.  Maybe too well. 

Now she puts herself in time out.  If she does something that she knows is even mildly wrong, she will look at you sweetly and say "time out."  It's almost like she appreciates a minute to herself every once in a while.  Come to think of it, if I could reliably count on the fact that banging my cup against the table would result in a minute of silence by myself - I'd be doing it at every meal. 

Manah manah

Just saw the Muppet movie with my mom and Lola. Particularly poignant since my mom and I used to watch the Muppets together when I was little and it was Lola's first movie experience. Lola sat in my lap through the entire thing barely moving a muscle and my mom (who NEVER cries post-tumor) wept through Rainbow Connection. I'm going to go out on a limb and say it was the best movie-watching experience of my life.

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CHEESE! (and ham)

A photographer came to school the other day to take class pictures and snapped a few candids of the kids as well. Apparently Lola was quite the "camera ham" (as described to me by her teachers). This pictures puts the biggest smile on my face. As Grandma Rivi would say, "Eight-by-Ten, please."

Best Friends

3 days ago, Lola looked right into my eyes while I was changing her diaper, pointed her little finger at me, and said "best friend". My heart turned to mush. I totally melted. It ranked in the top 5 moments of my entire life.

The following day we had a playdate with a little girl named Shafer. Lola spent much of our 2 hours together insisting that Shafer stay outside of Lola's 3-foot required radius of personal space and yelling loudly each time sweet little Shafer came near her.

And then yesterday at dinner, totally unprompted, Lola said, "Shafer. Best friend." Easy come, easy go, I suppose.


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More counting.

So she is still starting at "7" - but today she made it up to "12". So bizarre.


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