Andrea: The weatherman said it might snow tomorrow.
Clara: Who is the weatherman? Oh, you mean God?
A father's struggle to capture his children's brief moment of youth in words and pictures
This evening I have somehow found myself at a youth figure skating show. The one little girl came out in a frilly pink tufted dress and started dancing to “I Feel Pretty, Witty, and Gay”. Clara looked up excited and said, “Oh Daddy! Cousin Drake could do this one!”
This morning, Clara was excitedly dancing around talking about how she and I were wearing matching panties. I just want to make very clear that this is completely false. If she comes up to you today and tries to spread this horrendous libel I want to already be on record fully denying all allegations. I repeat, this is all the construct of a 4 year old’s mind which does not apparently understand the difference between completely normal things for a man to wear and things that little girls wear.
One last time. Clara and I are not wearing matching panties today, because I am not currently nor have I ever in the past, worn such a thing as she is wearing today because I am a grown man.
Thank you for your patience.
Clara did a really great job pushing her sister’s stroller on our walk yesterday. In fact at one point a truck came at them at 5mph. Clara perceived danger, and struggled to get Lydia to the side of the road. She struggled for about half a second before giving up and diving into the ditch, abandoning her sister to the now stopped truck. Lydia sat quietly watching birds as I casually pushed her to the side of the road, waving an apology to the laughing occupants of the truck.
At church this evening Andrea overheard one of Clara’s friends asking her, “If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?” Clara thought for a moment and then replied confidently, “I would be holding an ice cream cone.”
Clara just came downstairs after having been put in bed for the night to complain because she accidentally zipped her pajamas up and pinched her neck a little bit while laying in bed. She was mostly frustrated because she apparently has other owies that she is already dealing with. She claimed, “I’m okay having owies, but I only want one owie at a time. I don’t want four, or six, or seven. Just one… maybe two owies.”
“Thank you for the water Clara.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Where did you get the glass?”
“From the dishwasher.”
“Are the dishes clean in the dishwasher?”
“Yes. Well, some are. Some are not. That glass was clean.”
“Oh… Thanks.”
*Little girl waits patiently for me to take a drink*
Clara hasn’t been picking up her toys properly like her father asked. We will see if she disobeys again tomorrow after she wakes up with a horse head in her bed.
We have a bouquet of balloons that is no longer strong enough to lift itself off the floor. I was going to get rid of it the other day, but I’m glad I didn’t, because Lydia was just having a great time riding it all over the house like a horse. But then she wanted to get off of the balloon pile and couldn’t and ended up having a not so great time continuing to ride it around the house, and well, this was also fantastic.
I carried Clara upstairs to bed last night. I told her it was my last time ever to carry her up the stairs as a 3 year old. As I pretended to struggled to the top of the steps I asked her what it felt like to be almost 4 years old. She thought for moment and then said, “Heavy.”
As I laid her in bed she looked up with a surprised look on her face. “I think I can feel my legs getting longer!” The funny thing is, I don’t doubt that it’s true. If she grows up so fast that I can feel it, I can only imagine what it feels like for her.
Happy Birthday Clara Joy.
Where Are We Here? 