My baby's in a cast

Rachel broke the Drew/Lisa record for a cast-less life.

On Saturday morning she complained that her left knee hurt, but as is usual with me (and the way I was brought up), I minimized her distress. We didn't even give her any Tylenol. She and Drew went to tumbling class and swimming and the farmer's market while I stayed home and did some freelance writing. When they got back Drew said she'd had trouble with tumbling but it didn't register with me; she went down for a nap and I went for a walk with my good friend Julie.

When we got back Rachel was curled against Drew's shoulder, holding her stuffed puppy Spot and looking sad. He said they'd gone to the playground nearby and she couldn't play because her knee was still bothering her. More Tylenol, dinner and then Drew and I left her with my tenant Craig and his girlfriend, Brenna, who had generously offered to babysit Rachel for free while we had a night to ourselves. Before we left I told Rachel we would have a playdate with her friend Lila at the "playplace," which is a great indoor play park that just opened in the Pearl District. "I think in the morning my knee will be better," she said.

Well, it wasn't. Rachel got upset when I told her to walk from the toilet to the toilet-paper dispenser (two steps) and I winced when I saw her knee give out. ("I'm telling Daddy that you made me walk," she said accusingly; Drew has been carrying her everywhere since Saturday). We canceled the playdate and Drew took Rachel to the urgent care clinic while I worked at home. They got back about 45 minutes ago. Bottom line: The doctors took X-rays but couldn't find anything wrong. They told Drew that in kids there is a lot of undeveloped "stuff" around their knees, like soft tissue or ligaments, that can get messed up. (There was no swelling or bruising around the knee). So they put her in a cast that largely immobilizes her leg. We can't get it wet, so that means sponge baths for the next few days. We'll bring her back on Wednesday and hopefully the cast will get cut off and she'll be feeling better. Drew will head to Seattle tomorrow unless daycare won't take her; then we'll have to switch off which tays to take off.

"I can't tell you how impressed I was that Rachel did what the doctors said," Drew said. "When she lay down on the X-ray table, she was really still." Drew said she got to see the X-ray photos of her knee ("that's my KNEE!" she said delightedly) and was otherwise remarkably cheerful. (It helped that we're reading the Madeline books and Drew told Rachel that she was like Madeline, who had to go to the doctor for her appendix).

When they got home Rachel was hungry so we hovered over her with challah and chicken. She went down quite willingly for a nap and after Drew got out of her bedroom he had this to say:

"Other kids could use this as an opportunity to really freak out; 'I've got this big thing on my leg, I don't get to go out and play,' but she's remarkably cooperative about it all," he noted before heading to the grocery store.

It's her mommy who's freaking out. I hate the thought of my baby in a cast. I know she'll get well, and everything will be fine, and her great attitude helps, but something in me just wants to cry.

Magic!

Drew took Rachel to Grant Park tonight. It has statues of Ramona and Henry Higgins and Ribsy, the iconic children's characters in the "Ramona" books by Beverly Cleary who lived in our neighborhood when she was a girl.

There were kids playing the foutnains and Rachel wanted to feel the water. It was cold. Drew told her that cold water will feel good on a hot day and she'll be able to take off her shoes and shorts and run through the water.

She looked down at hands and said, "My hands are wet! I need a napkin!"

Drew replied, "I think, sweetie, they'll dry off on their own pretty quickly."

Rachel whined, "NO! I need a napkin!"

Drew said again, "No, sweetie, I'm pretty sure they're gonna dry off pretty quickly."

Then Rachel looked down at her hands and said in surprise, "Oh! They're dry!"

Drew said, "Yes! As if by magic!"

Whereupon Rachel started singing, "Puff the magic dragon lived by the sea..."

Newest worry item

As I've already noted, Rachel has taken to pitching fits in the morning when Drew and I drop her off at school. Today, at my suggestion, Drew asked her why she got so upset when Mommy or Daddy leave.

She replied, "I don't like a lot of kids. I like a little kids, but not a lot."

Drew asked, "Why don't you like a lot of kids?"

Rachel answered, "Because there's a lot of screaming and I don't like loud noises."

You can imagine how distressed this conversation made me. Drew went on to explain to Rachel that she'll have to deal with lots of loud kids in life and that she'll have to learn how to tune out the noise. And that even if the teachers don't rush up to her when she starts crying after we drop her off, they sill care about her.

I'm not mollified. Is this what we're leading our daughter into? Overcrowded classrooms with screaming, noisy children where very little learning gets done? Why does she have to live with that scenario? Why can't funding be adequate to hire more teachers and keep classrooms smaller? Why do we insist our kids get used to intolerable situations when, really, we should be fighting day and night to ensure the situation isn't intolerable in the first place?

A post from Drew

As everyone knows, I'm the one who writes and maintains this blog, not Drew (Mr. Anti-Social Media and Proud of It.). But a sweete little interchange between Rachel and him last night so inspired him that he wrote it down on paper. So consider this blog entry a Drew contribution:

"Rachel and I were discussing how I'd have to go back up to Seattle next week. She asked why, and I said, 'for my job.' Just like she has a job at school, I have a job I have to work at.

After determining that I do in fact have to take the highway to get to Seattle (traffic engineering apparently being one of her budding interests), Rachel then said, 'When I'm a little bit bigger, can I come up with you to Seattle?'

'Oh, sweetie,' I replied. "I'd love it if you could, but what would you do all day while I worked?'

Rachel paused.

'I'd find a little bench or a couch, and sit on it, and watch you work.'"

Roller-coaster ride

Remember I said that last night with Rachel was absolutely wonderful? Welll, I got paid back today. This morning sucked. Absolutely SUCKED. She was reluctant to wake up and finally whined, "I'm TIRED! I don't want to get UP!" (and I'd rather have a kid who doesn't want to get up instead of a kid who gets up at the crack of dawn and expects the whole household to follow suit), but I really needed to get to Salem by 10 a.m. I yelled at her a couple of times to hurry up and she cried and cried. "I can't WAIT until Daddy gets home tonight and he gets to deal with this tomorrow morning," I muttered. Whereupon Rachel sobbed, "I WANT DADDY!"

She was OK in the car with granola and orange juice (and beforehand I carried her into the kitchen and set her on the counter which seemed to calm her down) but once we arrived at school she threw a fit, crying and shrieking for me not to leave. (One thing that annoys me about her school is that the teachers don't comfort her as I leave. Today my strategy was to shake off her hands, put her backpack in her cubby and walk rapidly out of the room, hoping she wouldn't follow me. I could hear her screams down the hall).

When I picked her up, all was fine although she was a little whinier than usual tonight. I was probably more sensitive to it, too; I had a terrible stomach ache and nearly bent over double to suppress the pain. Pepto-Bismol helped a little but I ended up having to lie down on the couch. Rachel whined that she wanted to snuggle with me, then proceeded to find every way possible to lie or tumble or jump on my aching tummy.

Finally got up and made dinner at 7:15, which pretty much guaranteed we wouldn't take a walk, but I don't think I could have gotten through walking around the neighborhood even though it was a beautiful night. Toward the end of dinner I started feeling a lot better even though I ate the worst thing possible for a tummy ache -- leftover steak and a baked potato.

As my mood improved slightly, so did Rachel's.

"I really really really really really really really really love you, Mommy," she said.
"Well, I really really really reallly really really love YOU, Rachel!" I replied. "Isn't it great that we love each other so much?"
"Yeah!" she answered.

Of course, she then followed that up with:

"I miss Daddy I miss Daddy I miss Daddy I miss Daddy!"

Rachel proves my point

Yesterday Drew and Rachel were upstairs watching old versions of "Sesame Street." Drew held Rachel on his lap. He told me proudly that Rachel had made the number 10 by putting the 1 and the 0 together.

"Wow, Rachel, you're really sharp!" I said. (I'm trying to consciously not tell her she's smart all the time).

"I'M not sharp!" she retorted. "I'M not a knife!"

Um, maybe it's time to teach her about metaphors and similes?

Rachel won't stay little

Tonight as I was changing into my comfortable at-home clothes, I said to Rachel, who was being incredibly delightful (see previous post): "I don't want you to grow up. Can you please just stay little?"

"NO!" she exclaimed. "I need to open doors!"

"OK, you can open doors," I conceded. "But that's all."

"NO!" she replied. "I wanna be a GROWNUP!"

Oh, how I remember desperately wanting to be grownup when I was a kid. All that rushed through my head as I hugged Rachel from behind and said darkly, "being a grownup isn't all that great, kid."

Perfect, perfect night with Rachel

Tonight was possibly the best night I have EVER spent with my daughter.

I picked her up from school and she ran up to me twice and jumped into my arms. I had been feeling a bit neglected because during the time Big Rachel (i.e., Auntie Rachel, my friend from Kenya) had been visiting, I spent most of my time with her and very little time with my daughter. Result: Drew took Rachel to the park and the children's museum while Rachel and I ran around shopping, drinking and generally having a good time being gals together. So, by this morning, when I told Little Rachel I loved her and she didn't say I love you back, I was a little hurt. ("It's nice to say 'I love you' back when people tell you 'I love you,'" Drew told her gently, to no avail).

But all was OK after school. We headed to Powell's to pick up a cookbook, and while I was in the barbecue section I noticed there were two copies of my book on the shelf. "See this book?" I told Rachel. "Mommy wrote this book! See the picture on the back? That's MOMMY!"

"Can you put MY picture in this book?" she replied. I hugged her and thought, next time, honey.

Then she said, completely out of the blue: "I'm so happy to see you!" and I hugged her on the spot. I didn't want to let her go.

We got into the car where she astonished me by BUCKLING HERSELF INTO HER CAR SEAT ALL BY HERSELF. Then we headed home and when she asked to watch a "movie," (old Sesame Street episodes on DVD that Tia Daniella sent us), I gently told her that those were for special occasions. "If we eat dinner quickly, we can take a walk!" I said, and the bribe worked. Rachel ate a good dinner of several pieces of chicken and baby food carrots, then asked for a treat "because I had a good dinner." So I handed her two graham crackers and off we set on a walk through the neighborhood.

Portland really is lovely this time of year. The weather tonight was perfect -- mid-70s -- and every house looked gorgeous. I've started asking Rachel if she likes the houses we pass and the landscaping. She always says yes. Tonight she asked me if I like a certain house and I said no.

"Why?" she asked.
"It's too dark," I answered.
"Houses can be any color," she observed.

Then she reminded me of our trip to New York: "Remember yesterday when we went to New York on the airplane and I curled up in your lap and I snuggled and I sniffed you?" she asked, chuckling.

We talked about berry-picking, and I asked her if she wanted to pick strawberries and blackberries and blueberries with Mommy and Daddy. She said yes. I asked if she liked Mommy's strawberry bread, and she said yes again.

"Next time, can you not put pecans in it?" she asked politely. "Because I don't like pecans."

"Um, OK, Rachel," I replied, astonished. "No more pecans in the strawberry bread."

On the way home we stopped at a little playground three blocks away from our house. "Rachel, we only have a little time before we do Mommy books," I told her. "I don't want you to fuss when I say we have to go home."

"I won't fuss," she said. "I promise."

"Five minutes, Rachel," I warned her when she was going down the slide. "I won't fuss when we have to go home," she said. And, miracle of miracles -- she didn't! In fact, SHE was the one who asked to go home.

When she started whining a little that she didn't want to brush her teeth and wash her face, I told her to please not start fussing. "I didn't cry when we left the playground!" she reminded me cheerfully, and I thanked her. Then she washed her hands, I washed her face and brushed her teeth, we got into pajamas, I read two short books and sang three songs, and she was ready for bed.

As I was tucking her in she said, "thank you."

"What are you thanking me for?" I asked.

"For tucking me in tight," she said.

"Thank you for taking a walk with me," I replied.

"Thank you!" she said again, and I turned out the light and closed the door.

Oh, if every night could be this perfect....

Auntie Rachel's here!!

Rachel Jones, one of my very best friends in the whole wide world, is HERE! She lives in Nairobi and had a workshop/conference/presentation in Seattle to attend, so she decided to spend four days with us here in Portland and we're having a wonderful time.

Today Drew took Rachel to school while Rachel and I sat around the kitchen table and ate homemade strawberry bread (mine) and bacon (from the Farmer's Market). Then we went consignment store shopping (Rachel bought several beautiful things but I found NOTHING that fit; how depressing!). We then grabbed our bathing suits and went to the soaking pool at the Kennedy School and had a fabulous time talking and soaking for two hours. We picked up cupcakes and Thai food for dinner and we're waiting for Drew to put Little Rachel to bed until we eat dessert. Then maybe...watch a movie? I haven't felt this relaxed since..since..Drew came home.

***

Little Rachel constantly admonishes us to not talk with food in our mouths. She also watches to make sure we eat enough food. "Please eat, Mommy," she said after I was full from the pad thai I'd ordered. "It's OK, Rachel, I'm just resting," I said.

***

I was telling Little Rachel about the soaking pool and she wanted to know why we went there.

"Well, a soaking pool is good because it takes away the aches and pains," I said. "The hot water makes the aches and pains go away."

"No wonder she talks like a professor!" Big Rachel said. "It's the way you both talk to her!"

***

Tonight Little Rachel shocked us with a colloquialism that could only have come from school.

"Hey, duuudes!" she said suddenly. I looked at her in astonishment. "Where did you pick that up??" I demanded.

"Lila taught me at school," she said.

So for the rest of the evening, each of us said, "Hey, duude!" but the only time that we all cracked up was when Little Rachel said it. It sounded so cute, we couldn't help ourselves.

Underwear!!

Drew took Rachel clothes shopping today (although he may as well not have bothered -- the forecast tomorrow calls for rain and mid-60 degree weather. Ugh) and they came home with a very cute pair of jeans that Rachel picked out, with hearts on the butt for pockets. She also wanted UNDERWEAR. (She had earlier expressed an interest in white underwear "just like you, Mommy.") So Drew bought her bunch of pairs colored purple, multicolored, and turquoise. She raced to show them to me as soon as she got home and then insisted on pulling OFF her Pull-Up and putting ON her underwear. She put the purple pair on and looked so cute, prancing around and bending over into yoga positions.

I suppose it's only a short leap to racier dainties, but for now it's just fun to watch this latest manifestation of girlhood. She wet herself while she was napping, but otherwise she was very good about telling us when she needed to go to the bathroom and kept herself dry before bed. I think we'll transition to underwear during the day and Pull-Ups/diapers at night until she gets a big-girl bed and can get herself up and to the bathroom at night.

***

Tonight Drew and I had yet another in our series of Serious Financial Discussions; this time the topic was how to replace our aging cars since we have such monster commutes. We were discussing the merits of gently used vs. new cars when he realized it was time to wake her up from her nap. After he'd done that, he came into the kitchen and said urgently, "Lisa. Come in here. You gotta see this."

I tiptoed behind him to Rachel's bedroom door and saw her in the glider, her back against the pillow I use for an armrest on the right side, her feet dangling over the armrest on the left side. And on her lap was a Madeline book! And she was "reading" it! (murmuring the Rachel version to herself). She looked for all the world as if she was relaxing in a hammock on a sunny summer day, reading the afternoon away. I could feel the tears rushing to my eyes and I told Drew, "that was me at her age. Well, at least at a young age."

At those moments, all our money worries seem to fall away and I look at my daughter and think how lucky I am and happy at the way she's turning out, and I can't wait until it's winter and Drew builds a fire and we all curl up in various places in the living room, classical music on the stereo, ensconced with our books.

***

I made lemon chicken and noodles tonight, one of Drew's favorite dishes, which he'd been missing while he was away.

"This is a very good dinner, Mommy," Rachel said politely at the end of the meal.

"Why THANK YOU, Rachel!" I exclaimed. "That was such a nice thing to say!"

***

Sometimes I attempt to ask Rachel very serious questions that are way too big for a little girl like herself to handle. She knows exactly what I'm doing and deflects it as much as she can.

"What do you want to be when you grow up?" I asked her tonight.

"I don't know," she said in that "duh, Mommy," tone of voice. "I'm just little!"

I...love a parade!

We have lived in Portland since 2003 but for some reason we have never been to the Rose Festival parade. It's the biggest event here every year, and we've managed to avoid it until now -- fear of the crowds, a wish to avoid the rain (legend has it that it's not really the Rose Festival unless it rains, which makes sense since the festival takes place the entire month of June), and I've had coaching sessions for chorus a couple of times.

But this year I decided that we really needed to go. Truth be told, I was dreading it, probably based on memories of getting up at 5 a.m. to make the Macy's Thanksgiving Day parade in NYC, fighting the crowds and the cold. I didn't have a clear sense of where the parade would go or where we needed to stand or if I needed to pitch a tent the night before to reserve a spot (something I was completely unwilling to do).

We got out of the house at 11 a.m., an hour after the parade started, and I was convinced we'd miss most of it. Luckily Drew insisted on taking the MAX light rail downtown, which turned out to be a brilliant decision because we would have been completely unable to find a parking space. We got there in enough time to see Float #24 out of 96, and we had a pretty good view, too, behind two rows of people who were sitting down. I'd forgotten how much I love marching bands and colorful floats and general pageantry, especially the Rose Festival princesses (Drew suggested to Rachel that she might want to be a festival princess one day and maybe even Queen of Rosaria, which would earn her hefty scholarship money). The weather was perfect -- mostly cloudy with sun breaking through at the very end. We had a pleasant walk to the Farmer's Market and managed to snag strawberries, asparagus, tomatoes, lettuce and some great handmade sausage before the 2 p.m. closing time. Then we hopped back on the train to our car, which was parked at a mall about a 10-minute drive from our house. Rachel had a snack and took a nap; I did some writing while Drew mowed the lawn.

All in all it was a perfect Portland Saturday.

Sweet Rachel quotes today:

"I don't want Mommy and Daddy to go away," she said at breakfast. "Cuz I will be very sad and lonely."

***

We're back to vampires. Tonight, just before Rachel threw an epic tantrum before bed and was severely disciplined by Drew, she said, "Mommy, you look like a vampire."
"No I DON'T!" I exclaimed.
"Well, you're looking kinda pale," Drew teased.
"Mommy's a VAMPIRE!" Rachel crowed.

***

At dinner tonight, I said, "Rachel, please don't grow up too fast, OK? I want you to stay just the way you are."
"NO!" Rachel said.
"Why not?" I teased.
"Because I need to open doors myself," she said. "That's why I need to grow up fast!"

Kate the Kitty

Drew is obviously the storyteller in the family, not me. I realized this as I sat outside Rachel's bedroom last night, listening to Drew tell her the ongoing story of Kate the Kitty. Kate lives in a big house with a little girl named Elinor.

Last night's story was about how Kate the Kitty ran across a chipmunk in the backyard (or park, I couldn't quite catch it). Anyway, Kate the Kitty told the chipmunk to run away so she could catch it (something Rachel loves to do with Drew). But instead of running away, the chipmunk suggested they do something together as friends. So, they both ended up going to the chipmunk's home to have tea with the rest of chipmunk's family members. After they were done, Kate the Kitty gave chipmunk a ride back to the backyard and they agreed to play again sometime.

Moral(??): It's better to play together than for one big person to chase a little person.

No, I have no idea where Drew gets this stuff. Yes, you'd think that I -- the narrative writer -- would be able to make this up out of whole cloth. But I can't. That's why I decided in grade school that I'd never be a good fiction writer because my stories went on and on and on and on. Newspaper journalism seemed an excellent way to be a writer but within pre-established limits.

I also think it's interesting that Drew chose animals to tell stories and that he's the storyteller in the family, not Mommy. Dad, remember the continuing saga of Julie and Kathy and how they ran away to the circus to join Bozo the Clown, and all of them had adventures together? You can rest assured that Drew is carrying on the noble Daddy storytelling tradition.

Huggy, kissy little girl

Drew was holding Rachel when I got home from work tonight. I gave him a quick hug.

"Family kiss!" Rachel said, and so Drew and I leaned in to kiss Rachel all over her face and eyes and head, and she started laughing and then we let her get down. I hope she'll always remember how affectionate her parents were with her when she was young.

Also tonight she demanded that I take a picture of her singing. So I shot some video of her attempting to sing "I've been working on the railroad." She's wearing an adorable little penguin-covered dress that I bought her at Halloween that was too big, but now it fits her perfectly. Also white stockings. And pink sunglasses. Sort of like a kid's mildly demented version of Lady Gaga.

Rachel bites Mommy

Rachel was horsing around last night when Drew was in Seattle and started pretending she was a dog. Before I realized what was happening, she had reached over (she was sitting on my lap) and BIT ME on my left shoulder. "OWWW!" I shrieked and immediately lifted her off my lap and dumped her on the floor. "DON'T HIT MOMMY!!" I yelled, and she immediately burst into tears and started wailing. Since I was still in pain, I didn't respond when she gave me that pleading look and then rested her head on my leg.

I could feel her fear that Mommy would never love her again, but I wanted her to cry for a minute to realize the gravity of the situation. Then I took her in my lap and explained that she should NEVER bite Mommy, that she shouldn't bite anyone. And then I pulled down my bra strap and showed her the red welt on my shoulder. "See? You did this," I said accusingly. Whereupon she started crying again.

This morning we talked about it again and she seemed to agree that she had done a bad, bad thing and that biting is not allowed in this household. To say nothing about the fact that she's already terrified of doggies so it's not a good idea for her to pretend to be a doggie that bites.

Omniscent Mommy

Rachel asked if she could work on her horsie puzzle after dinner tonight. It's a great kid-frienly puzzle of a horse, with big pieces that she can usually fit together. She likes it so much that on the way home from school today I asked her if she wanted us to buy her some more puzzles this weekend. "Yes," she said. "A pig."

So, we'll be looking for pig puzzles. If you see any, let us know.

Anyway, she finished the puzzle, came downstairs where I was reading the paper, then said, "I did part of the puzzle. I did the green part and ear part and...another part. What part didn't I do?"

"I don't know, sweetie," I answered. "The leg?"

"You KNOW!" she said, getting very upset. "Mommies and daddies KNOW! You're not a little kid; you're a big girl!"

Somehow I'm going to have to break it to her that I don't know everything. But gosh this is a nice stage to be in, when she thinks her parents are gods and can do no wrong. Does it have to end??

end of the week with Rachel

Drew and I are going out to dinner tomorrow night and Rachel informed us that she doesn't like Angela, our regular babysitter.

"Of course you like Angela!" Drew said.

"I don't like Angela," Rachel said, smiling. Then turning serious she said, "I don't want you to go. I want you both to stay with me."

***

No longer a baby: When Drew was taking some snacks out of the diaper bag a couple of days ago, Rachel made a big fuss. "This is the diaper bag, and the diaper bag is a bag for BABIES!" she cried. "And I'm not a baby!!"
He now packs snacks in a reusable Fred Meyer bag.

***

Strict Mommy: Drew was telling Rachel about something that he and I wanted, and he ended with, "maybe Daddy will have it or maybe Mommy will have it."

"If you can't decide who gets it, then nobody gets it," Rachel informed him.

"Is that what you tell your babies?" Drew said.

"Yeah," Rachel said. "If you can't decide who gets it, I'm going to take it away and nobody gets it."

"You're a very strict mommy!" Drew said.

"Yeah," Rachel answered.

***

The last few nights, as Drew put Rachel to sleep, she informed him that she no longer wanted the CD player, the one that plays ocean sounds continuously throughout the night and during her naptime.

"Sweetie, are you done with the CD?" Drew said. "Should I take it out of your room?"

"Yes," Rachel said firmly. "I don't need it anymore."

Sigh. Just like soon she won't need her pacifier anymore, or her sippy cup, or her mommy and daddy....

She spelled her name!!!

Drew chatted with the Multnomah County librarian today about Rachel's progress with letters; he is determined to teach her how to read this summer. The librarian was very impressed that Rachel knows the alphabet; she told Drew that it's at Rachel's age (just under 3) that kids BEGIN to learn their letters.

Tonight she was playing with a letter puzzle that Constance got her ages ago, when Drew asked her to spell "Rachel." And OMG, she did! The "R" was backwards but everything else was in the right place.

"Lisa," Drew commanded. "I think you better come in here."

I left the kitchen, walked into the living room and saw the letters spelled out -- and I swooped down and hugged Rachel. "I am so PROUD of you, sweetie!!" I exclaimed.

But there's more -- she then went on to spell Mom and Dad (with a little help from the extra magnetic letters we keep on the refrigerator, since her letter puzzle only has 26) and then Lisa . After she put together the letters for my name she looked at it and SOUNDED IT OUT PHONETICALLY. Then she spelled Drew's name.

"Where did she come from??" Drew murmured.

"You know," I answered, "your parents probably thought the same thing about you when you were little."

Family dinner

I've always liked the idea of having a large family solely for the reason that we'd all get to eat dinner together and talk about our days, laugh, argue, pout, make up again, and generally be one noisy happy foursome. Or six-some. Or five-some.

It felt a little like that tonight, when Craig, my tenant, unexpectedly showed up around the time I got home (7:30) and Drew offered him the opportunity to join us for dinner. Sure, he said. Drew had made spaghetti and meatballs, one of his signature dishes, and we all sat down together and ate and talked. Rachel interrupted a lot but Craig and I were able to talk about crafts and work and things I want to do in my job, and how he's missing Brenna, his girlfriend, but will see her in two weeks, etc.

At one point Rachel decided we all should be called "Red." So that's how she addressed us when she wanted to get our attention. She also decided that we all needed to be attacked with hugs so she started with me, then Drew, then ran over to Craig and did the same to him. "Prepare to be love-bombed!" Drew warned, and he was. At least he took it in stride. Rachel really seems to be attached to him and I'll be sad when he goes and our family will shrink down again. Not that I won't welcome the privacy, but this house feels almost too big for the three of us.

More stories!

Rachel is getting more demanding about the stories she likes to hear. Since Drew got home last week she has started asking him to tell her stories featuring animals -- a kitty, a birdie and a doggie. So, since Drew is responsible for putting her to bed at night (at least until he goes to Seattle on Mondays and Tuesdays, then I get uniterrupted girl time with my kid again), he's had to make up tales about Kate the Kitty and Homer the homing pigeon.

"I bet you tell her stories about how Homer carried coded messages to the Allies during World War II," I teased.
"Uh, no," he replied. "I tell her that Homer carried very important messages from the village to the king when the village was being threatened by a dragon."

***

Tonight the story was about Kate the Kitty. One of these days I'll actually have the patience to sit outside Rachel's room and listen to Drew spin out the tale.

"I'm not creative enough to make up stories," I whined when he came downstairs after he'd put her to sleep.
"You think you have no creativity??" he chuckled. "You're gonna meet the most demanding editor you've ever had!"