Just so you know, I AM working on an "after" post of the living room, but after trying several times to upload pictures and getting nowhere, I took a break from that post.
Meanwhile, I have a new favorite book. It's a children's book, which seems to go right along with my other favorite books (The Chronicles of Narnia, Harry Potter), except this one is a true children's book. It's only about 30 pages long, but it's delightful. It's called Wonderful Words: Poems About Reading, Writing, Speaking, and Listening. The poems and the illustrations are beautiful, simply beautiful. If you consider yourself a word-smith at all, read it.
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Wednesday, June 27, 2007
Saturday, June 02, 2007
Some Halle, for good measure
Back Story 1: Halle turned eight about a month or so ago. This is a big deal. She is oh-so-much older and more mature now that she is eight, and not a mere seven. You know how one of your friends or relatives always asks if you feel older on your birthday? Halle actually does feel older.
Back Story 2: A few months ago, Halle and I were having a conversation about all of the foods she doesn't like. We talked about how, when I was a little girl, there were foods I didn't like that I have grown to like in subsequent years. I explained that a person's tastes change as they get older.
Side Note 1: A few of the Foods Halle Does Not Like include hot dogs (I blame Amanda), tomatoes, lettuce (except in salad, go figure), pickles, jelly, honey, onions, green beans, and rice.
Actual Story: Last week I made macaroni and cheese with hot dogs for dinner. Not the finest culinary fare, I know, but it's good and easy. In keeping with the tradition of the past dozen times I've made this meal, I even used the high-end Velveeta shells and cheese instead of the Wal-Mart off-brand. Mmm.
Halle came in the kitchen as I was preparing the meal and asked her customary question, "What's for dinner?" Normally I brace myself for the groaning and the eye-rolling, but not this time. I knew--minus the hot dogs--we had a winner. I was quite surprised, therefore, when I received the customary groan and eye-roll.
"Halle," I calmly and rationally explained, "you can pick out the hot dogs, like you do every other time."
"But mo-o-om," she extended my name into three syllables with more eye-rolling, "I don't like shell macaroni and cheese."
"Halle," I calmly and rationally explained, "shell macaroni and cheese doesn't taste any different than regular. It's only the shape that's different, not the taste. Besides, we had this a couple weeks ago and you liked it just fine then." Quite pleased with my calm, rational defense, and quite sure that I had her, I smugly returned to chopping hot dogs.
Halle was not to be deterred, however. What I obviously had forgotten was that the last time we had shell macaroni and cheese, Halle was seven. She is now eight.
"Mom," Halle calmly and rationally explained, "your tastes change as you get older."
Checkmate.
Back Story 2: A few months ago, Halle and I were having a conversation about all of the foods she doesn't like. We talked about how, when I was a little girl, there were foods I didn't like that I have grown to like in subsequent years. I explained that a person's tastes change as they get older.
Side Note 1: A few of the Foods Halle Does Not Like include hot dogs (I blame Amanda), tomatoes, lettuce (except in salad, go figure), pickles, jelly, honey, onions, green beans, and rice.
Actual Story: Last week I made macaroni and cheese with hot dogs for dinner. Not the finest culinary fare, I know, but it's good and easy. In keeping with the tradition of the past dozen times I've made this meal, I even used the high-end Velveeta shells and cheese instead of the Wal-Mart off-brand. Mmm.
Halle came in the kitchen as I was preparing the meal and asked her customary question, "What's for dinner?" Normally I brace myself for the groaning and the eye-rolling, but not this time. I knew--minus the hot dogs--we had a winner. I was quite surprised, therefore, when I received the customary groan and eye-roll.
"Halle," I calmly and rationally explained, "you can pick out the hot dogs, like you do every other time."
"But mo-o-om," she extended my name into three syllables with more eye-rolling, "I don't like shell macaroni and cheese."
"Halle," I calmly and rationally explained, "shell macaroni and cheese doesn't taste any different than regular. It's only the shape that's different, not the taste. Besides, we had this a couple weeks ago and you liked it just fine then." Quite pleased with my calm, rational defense, and quite sure that I had her, I smugly returned to chopping hot dogs.
Halle was not to be deterred, however. What I obviously had forgotten was that the last time we had shell macaroni and cheese, Halle was seven. She is now eight.
"Mom," Halle calmly and rationally explained, "your tastes change as you get older."
Checkmate.
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