Tuesday 1:15pm

Tuesday 1:15pm. That means Maile Helen needs to be in her car seat, Diana too. We need three diapers, two blankets, two books, a full book bag, diaper wipes, socks, and shoes. The stroller is already in the car. What about the baby bjorn? It's already there.

"Emily? What else do we need?" A common, sometimes useful, often lazy/annoying question.

"I'm getting a bottle of juice." The lids are never quite handy, and she is already burdened with a bag too big for a human with straps too small for a shoulder that requires an all-precious elbow to keep it from falling.

Diana: "I want to feed the baby! I want the bottle." This used to be nap time. Hopefully, she'll just sleep in the car a little. But she's starting to melt.

"My bottle! I want the baby bottle!" Apparently, we didn't get it the first time, so she adds decibels.

Emily responds, "Not now Diana. We're going to the zoo!" The zoo is a big selling point. It may work.

"No! No! I want the BABY BOTTLE!!! NOOOOOOOOOO!" She's melting. Rationality is just about gone. Tears flow.

Emily gives up. "Diana, we have to go to school now." She takes Maile to the car.

"Nooo! NO school! Baby bottle!!!" She's melted, on the floor.

I say,"Diana," she says, "Baby Bottle."

I say, "You want the baby bottle."

She responds, "No! I want the bottle!" Whining. Yelling. Crying.

I keep at it. "The bottle. You want the bottle." Diana pauses for a moment. Just a moment. That's the sign that she heard it.

"I want to bottle," she explains through tears.

"You want the bottle," I understand at eye level.

"I want the bottle," her voice cracks.

"You want to feed Maile."

"Yes."

"You want the bottle to feed Maile."

It's a different cry. Less angry. More sad.

"Can I help you?" I'm almost excited, but not too cheerleader. "I want to help you get the bottle, so you can feed Maile. Can I help you?"

"... yes ..." (with tears)

"First, car. Second, zoo. Third, bottle." (I'm the map, I'm the map, I'm the map. I'm the map! Can you sing it?)

"Where next Boots?" We've switched to some helpful Dora the Explorer scripting.

"The car."

She responds, "okay." And without fuss, she climbs into her car seat and lets me buckle her in.

Within the last few weeks/months we have seen a huge difference in Diana's ability to delay gratification; to wait for a prize in the future, and to see the steps required to get there. This particular interaction blew me away. I think about how difficult it is for me to put aside something I desperately want. Diana was consoled with a plan that wouldn't give her what she wanted for over half an hour. And the first step in the plan was get in the car, which is something she struggles with. We're proud of our Super Girl.

piano peanuts popcorn pails pencil paper hammer nails

Maile Helen's been sleeping for three hours and Diana's been hypnotized by Sid the Science Kid for almost as long and I have absolutely no idea what to do with myself. I almost started playing puzzles by myself. After an hour or two I remembered that we have a piano I haven't played in a long time, but even though I played loud, Maile's still sleeping. Lindsay Lohan behind bars is the biggest internet news, it's too hot to bake anything, and I don't have a single idea what book I could start to read, especially since I'm convinced Maile will wake up the second I start it. Life is hard. I'm going to go clean the cupboards.

Daddy's Girl

I was about to change Diana's diaper during our road trip last Monday when she stopped me and said, "No, Daddy's turn!" She then demanded that daddy sing "Old MacDonald had a Farm" non-stop for the next 40 miles. Any time I tried to join in to give Warren a break, she said "No, Stop it!" and then daddy would have to start again. I got a nice break. The trip would have been completely great overall if it weren't for the screaming, the vomit, and the coyote who gave its life to destroy our radiator. From dust we come, to dust we shall return; may he rest in peace.