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Drooling on the Pillow

Saturday, February 19, 2005

Weenies, Poots and Heinies 

Grace is about to turn eight and I've found myself hunting the internet for reassurance on some of her developing behavioral charactaristics. Luckily, reassurance is in abundance. Apparently, most girls as well as boys turn into absolute pervs at this age. You can wake them up from a dead sleep, say the word 'weenie' and they'll be helpless for ten minutes. She's always on the lookout for a glimpse at the paternal unit. Flatulance, evacuation and the mere existance of genitalia are meat and drink to those without FICA or second mortgage cares. I'm not saying farts aren't funny, I'm just saying they're not as funny as her fixation on them.

I'm also saying that, so far, every age she's gotten to has been my favorite age. This one requires, maybe, a little more handling than previous ones. For instance, she has a pal who, for almost as long as she can remember has been her Best Friend. She and Max were separated in second grade and now he wants to play with kids from his class at recess. She came home and told her mother (I have no idea where she got this), "Mom, I'm invisible to him." We talked quite a bit about this. She saw it and felt it as a betrayal since they had promised to be best friends always. A couple days later she wrote on her blackboard "Olivia is my best friend." The next day 'Olivia' was erased and replaced with 'Georgia.' I liked the way this was going because she seemed to be exploring other options and no longer seemed bitter about Max. Now, who knows? She seems to have resolved the issue for herself. Max is again her friend, but 'best'? I don't thinks so.

I'm also saying that the streak of every age being my favorite may come to a screeching halt when she's old enough to Google herself and finds this post.

Sorry, baby.
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