Body Painting by Picasso and a Mercurial Girl

I have found that Henry is Picasso with food. For example, I gave him yogurt today and he promptly painted the table with it, then his belly, legs and arms, and then the floor. He got it nice and goopy and then squished his bare feet in it and tried to ice skate.
Later, he tried to shove his stuffed bear’s face into his macaroni and cheese, covering its fur in slime. I took the bear away and washed it with soap and water while Henry dragged his little chair over to the stove so he would have somewhere to stand while he played with the burners. I helped him off his chair and put the chair away while he walked over to Annabelle and smacked her.
“Don’t hit, Henry. You can high five me,” she said, giving him high five. “You can give me rocks,” she said, tapping his fist with her own. “But no hitting.” I don’t konw where a three- year-old learned to re-direct a one-year-old, but I was delighted.
“Annabelle! What a great job of helping Henry learn. He doesn’t want to hurt you, he wants to connect with you, so high five and rocks are perfect!”
It wasn’t long, however, before she had a complete meltdown. It had been a while since lunch and hunger crept up on her and I tried to get her to eat but she was too busy howling. She made her own secret cubby behind the door in the hallway. I slipped a package of scooby snacks through the crack in the door to her and I heard the crackle of paper as she munched away. “Do you want a yogurt?” I whispered. She nodded and I slipped it to her with a spoon and she ate that too. “Mom,” she whispered when I came to pick up the empty container, “I’m going to come out in a few minutes but I don’t want you to be scared. I’m going to be very still like a statue, but don’t worry, I’m a real girl.”
A few minutes later she emerged and held very still. I screamed in terror and she was delighted. She climbed on her new plasma car, courtesy of her adoring and wonderful grandmother Grantine, and propelled herself down the hallway at breakneck speed, her hair flying behind her. That’s my mercurial girl.
Henry ran down the hallway behind her, also screaming with delight. He was followed by their two-year-old friend Atticus, also screaming. It was triumph of the munchkins around here. Who knew three tiny people could fill the house with so much?

Similar Posts

  • Lambert’s Cove

    We had so many perfect days on Martha’s Vineyard this summer. So many moments of watching Henry stand on his head looking through his chubby little legs for a new view, watching Annabelle play mermaid, watching George swim while holding both kids in his arms, watching the fog roll out, the magic hour purple roll in, the sailboats float in the mist, walking barefoot through the woods on the powdery white sand, flowers dripping in the trees, telling Annabelle stories…

  • | | | |

    MOM aka Love Journey Part 1

    Everyone keeps saying Happy New Year and asking me how my holidays were. I would like to say AMAZING! A BLAST! FABULOUS! But it isn’t true. For us, the 2019 holidays were back-breaking heart-breaking work. If you know me, you know how much I love the holidays. The world finally joins me in my love of sparkle and twinkle lights. I can wear my elf costume without being taken away by the men in white coats, and I can indulge…

  • The Agony and the Ecstasy

    This morning I wanted to weep. It was just a moment, a snapshot. Henry was toddling around the bedroom looking for mischief in his diaper and blue Martha’s Vineyard t-shirt, his wild curls sticking out the back of his head, and Annabelle was jumping on the bed next to me in her purple tinkerbell underwear. It was such a perfect moment and I didn’t want it to end. I want to preserve them here, at these ages, forever, hold the…

  • Poetry…Moonlight, Mermaids, and Flying Olives

    Today when I was driving home, I saw our next door neighbor getting out of the car. A nurse was pulling up his pants and helping him with his walker. He’s a very old sick man, and he lives alone in a big mansion. I’m told he was a famous New Orleans judge for years. I feel sad when I see him–he’s bent and shaky and both his feet are wrapped in casts. One night his nurse came knocking at…

  • | | |

    Elizabeth Taylor: The Grand Poobah of Dashing Divorcees

    So every time you feel alone and heartbroken, imagine the Grand Poobah laughing and swimming in her jewels. Call up your own inner Elizabeth Taylor, a saucy hilarious gorgeous and dashing divorcee who always kept and open heart and never gave up on love. Put on your jewels and go for a swim. And don’t forget to raise your glass to this week’s Dashing Divorcee. Cheers!!

  • |

    When I Fell in Love with Van Gogh

    Did he see the ordinary church and reinterpret it his way?
    Or did he look at the building and see centuries of wishes, hopes, tears, and prayers all swirling together into a vibrant mind-bending dazzling cloud, bursting with sacred irreverence … the church and the art soothing jagged-edged souls and healing broken hearts, century after century… generation after generation…

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *