Sunday, March 6, 2016

Beauty and the Beast



Megan and I have some of the funniest conversations. And they can be about anything at all. Yesterday she came to me with a large coloring page she had colored for me, depicting Beauty and the Beast’s Belle. I exclaimed over the good coloring job and the pretty colors.

And tried desperately to hold it together when I saw that instead of coloring Belle’s irises blue, she had colored the whites of her eyes blue. Omgoodness, it looks so funny!

So anyhoo, I asked her about the picture to let her know I appreciate the sweet things she does, like coloring pages to make people happy. And in this little exchange, I was once again made aware of the limits of Megan’s understanding. 

Me: So, this is Belle, right?

Megan: Yeah, it’s Beww. (Belle)

Me: And Belle is from Beauty and the Beast?

Megan: Yep. Beauty an’ da Beast. 

Me, pointing to the horse: That’s the Beast?

Megan: No, no, dat’s da howrse. 

Me, pointing to Belle: Okay, but this is definitely Beauty, right?

Megan, laughing: No, dat’s Beww.

Me, laughing: Well I know that’s Belle, but she’s the “Beauty” part of Beauty and the Beast, right?

Megan: MUMMY! Dat’s Beww. Hewr name is Beww! 

Me: I know her name. Beast is the animal guy in the movie, right? <Megan nods> So she’s named Belle, but she’s also the Beauty….

Megan’s eyes go wide with pretend indignation and frustration.

Megan: Oh stop it! 

She stalks out of the room, giggling and putting on an air of one who has to bear up under much frustration with her parental unit. 

And while I’m reminded of the limits to her understanding, I’m also reminded again of the pure, sweet innocence of Megan, that simple essence of joy within her that never fails to touch my heart anew. And everyone around her.  

Thursday, March 3, 2016

Callie the Cat



I'm in the kitchen and need to go to the bathroom.

Callie: Where are you going, slave? I have need of you. Go open the door so I can use the outdoor facilities.

<Callie runs directly under my feet>

Me, stumbling into the wall: Oomph! Get OUT from under my feet!

Callie: You’re the one with only TWO feet who can’t operate them properly. 

<Callie runs to the door and scratches it.>

Me: I’m coming, I’m coming. 

Callie, dancing frantically at door: Move faster! There’s a blade of grass out there by the hedgerow with my name on it.

Me, opening the door: Okay, there you go.

Me: Come on now, go out.

Me: Callie, go out! You asked to go out, now GO OUT! Go THROUGH the door! 

Callie,  peering out and sniffing the air: There’s a dog 2 blocks away on Eigth Street. 

Me, huffing: You do this every time! Don’t ask to go out if you’re not going to actually go through the door!

Callie, turning and sitting down: I changed my mind. It’s my feline prerogative.

Me, shutting the door: That’s it. I’m not going to play Doorman for you cats anymore. Grrrr!

Callie, casually licking a paw: Oh yes you will. It’s part of your job description. 

I’m halfway down the hall when I hear Callie meow at the door.

Me: Seriously?? I just tried to let you out and you wouldn’t go!

Callie: I changed my mind again. It’s my feline prerog---

Me, opening the door: Now GO this time! 

Callie, daintily walking her girth out the door: Don’t get huffy with *me*. Remember your place. 

I close the door after her and am halfway down the hallway *again*, when I hear scratching at the door again.

Me, opening the door once more: NOW who is it??

Callie, nonchalantly sauntering into the house: Someone ate my blade of grass.