When I was a kid, I had the best babysitter in the world. Her name was Andrea and she always did what we wanted to do, even if it meant playing the same game over and over and over again. She also taught us, Nick and me anyway, Brandon and Erica were too little, to make friendship bracelets. I think I was nine or ten, and I spent years afterward making bracelets for anybody and everybody, at home, at school, at camp. I often had a safety pin on my knee, the long strings tucked up into my pocket for safekeeping.
I bought some string a while ago with the intention of teaching the girls how to make friendship bracelets. I didn’t, though, because I’m a bad, impatient mother. Instead, I started making bracelets for them. They seem to be happy with this.
Our internet was out for about a day and a half, and since it was raining and the babies were napping so well (which is NOT something to complain about)(the babies, not the rain)(although I know I shouldn’t complain about the rain, either), I was stuck inside trying to find something silent to do. I tried to read, but when the babies woke up, that didn’t go well. (And that’s totally okay, because I love those two little goobers.)
I saw some pin on Pinterest that had nothing to do with friendship bracelets, but someone was wearing one in the photo, and so I dug out my string and channeled my inner 10-year-old. I made one for Liliana yesterday, and today, even though the internet is working again, I’m making one for Kaylie. Because I’m all about equality and stuff like that. Kaylie picked out her colors (shades of orange and blue) and I told her I hoped to have it ready for her by the end of the day. (No pressure.)
In other news, I had the following conversation with Liliana after we dropped Kaylie off at school:
“Mama, did you pick Kaylie’s name when she was still in your tummy?”
“And I was your second baby?”
You were my second baby that was born, yes.
“And Preston was your third baby that was born?”
“And then we have lots more kids?”
Well, no, I think we’re stopping at three. How many kids do you want?
You want me to have six? Or you want to have six?
“Both of us!”
Yay grandbabies! You go right ahead and have six kids, Sweetie.
“When do I get to have babies?”
When you are married.
“And when I get pregmint I have to go to the hospital?”
If that is what you choose, yes.
(starts crying) “No! I don’t want to go to the hospital! MAMA! I DO NOT WANT TO GO TO THE HOSPITAL!”
You’re only five, Liliana. You won’t have babies for a long time. And when you’re a mama, shots don’t hurt as much. (Lies! All lies!)
Edited to add: She later asked me how the baby would come out of her tummy. I told her the truth. She started crying again.
I wish I could remember all our conversations, because Miss Liliana makes me laugh on a daily basis. I want to save up all these words, put them in a book, and give them to her for a wedding present. Or just pass the words on to her husband, that brave man.
Also edited to add:
This was my Facebook status this morning:
Every morning Noah gets me out of bed at about 6:30 to drive him to work, and when I walk out the door, I’m still half asleep. Early this morning I went to put my shoes on and happened to see something white in one of them. Upon closer examination, I saw that it was spit-up. Good morning to you, too, son. And good aim, because you got none in the floor, and all of it in my shoe.
Yea. Um. Yea.
Now excuse me, I have some string to knot into patterns.