Wednesday, May 02, 2007

The Spheroid Fruit Does Not Plummet an Extensive Length From Its Apogee of Origin

In other words, my daughter is just like me.

...just like me...just like me... I can hear that sentiment echoing off the canyon walls which are near my house and followed closely by my mom's joyous, cackling laughter, not unlike the track meet announcer's voice which was carried on the winds to our house last night and made me think there was an unseen riot in the street until I realized riots don't generally involve a 400-meter relay. Or bullhorns.

Wednesday is library day. Every week, we take our library cards and a tote bag and head out the door to walk the six blocks or so to the county's branch library. Each week, we take a stack of books to return and then check out a stack to bring home. Today - and every day - I have to remind OC to brush her teeth and hair, locate her tote bag, pack the books to be returned, and to bring her library card. Today was no exception.

Wednesday is also the day I have SMART (and exercise great restraint when I answer the question "do you have any paper to color on?" with a resounding "no" four or more times. In a row. Asked by the same child.) and there are special nametags for SMART volunteers so you don't run around the school unidentified, a system I wholeheartedly support. However, I often forget that I am wearing the name tag and wear the thing home, every passerby able to know that I am SMART VOLUNTEER OCCIDENTAL GIRL. Hello, nice to meet you.

And so, I see where OC's forgetfulness comes from, and am reminded that patience is a good thing - also, a virtue! - since none of us are perfect, either. After all, I'd hate to get grounded because I was too preoccupied to follow simple protocol.

It rained today. Yay! Big, fat drops that splattered and made it look and smell like western Oregon, although it felt a lot colder than western Oregon. The cold here is a nastier, meaner older sibling to western Oregon's cold, the kind that warned you not to touch it's stuff, now you're going to get it.

It didn't rain this morning, though, and on our walk to the library OC noticed a mudpuddle and said to me, "Mama, look! You can see the sky right there, it's a reflection in the water!"

Hello! My child is a science genius. She's talking about reflections, at age six!

And then, she looked down and read the words "No Parking" that were painted on the blacktop.

Can you be any more proud of your kids at times like those? I know I complain a tiny little bit about the challenges of motherhood, and I maybe sort of exaggerate her level of genius, but I get so excited about these things and it's only fair to share these along with the, uh, more annoying aspects that I've rambled incessantly about already.

She is quite a girl. She may have a few traits both admirable and challenging that are like me, but she is 100% her own person. I'm nuts over her.


Kristen said...

I like this shot of her...

Loralee Choate said...

I have one science-nut genius 7-year-old (He explained how electricity is conducted to me at age 4).

He is like his father.

My oldest son, James is just like me. This means that every year he comes home with the "Clown" award from school and does things like decide to make a mud hut in our living room just in case any "Outcast and loney Pigmee's" decide they need refuge.

Special fun, that is.

melissa said...

Ooh! Ooh! Pretty! New!

Okay, that's out of my system. Your daughter is beautiful. And if she's like her mom then she's destined to be fabulous. :)