FFFF: Hair

Both of my girls have beautiful hair that grows quickly. When I met Doodle, her hair was a bit curly and on humid days she had ringlets. Wasn't she a gorgeous baby? Sadly, as her hair grew and was cut, the curls disappeared. In 2005, a few months before traveling to bring Tootle home, Doodle cut off 11 inches to donate to Locks of Love. Today, her hair is once again quite long.

Tootle came to me with elaborately done braids. She often asks for her hair to be braided (she calls it twist) but I only make two, not 10 or so on each side. Her preferred hairstyle today is a small tail to the side to keep her hair out of her eyes.

To see other cute kids and their hairstyles, go here.

Bizarre Bedtime Conversations: The Finger and Taxadermy

Something was in the air tonight. As Tootle and I snuggled in bed, Tootle said, "Doodle says that if I put out just my middle finger it means a bad word. What word does it mean? Is it hate? Is it stupid?"

An hour later as Opal the cat helped to tuck in Doodle, Doodle stroked her beloved cat and asked: "What are we going to do with Opal's fur?" I looked puzzled, so Doodle added, "You know when she dies." It appears that Doodle thinks we should have the cat stuffed, a la Sorrow, the stuffed dog that floats in John Irving's The Hotel New Hampshire. We talked about burial and cremation but Doodle is still in favor of taxidermy. I just did a google search, and it appears that you can freeze dry your dead pet. I hope that Opal is with us for years to come and that Doodle doesn't revisit this topic for some time. Death was probably on Doodle's mind because we learned this afternoon that our former pastor just died, only a few weeks after being diagnosed with pancreatic cancer and four months after leaving our church for a new assignment. He was in his 50s. I hugged the girls extra tight tonight (despite our rather unusual conversations).

On Immigration and Kids and Languages and Commitments

Over the weekend Tootle and I spent quality time at the urgent care center so that we could banish her sinus infection with better antibiotics. As Tootle leaned against me and diligently worked on her Hidden Pictures book, I took note when an Asian girl of about six approached the front desk staff and politely inquired about when her family would be seen. (This place has appointments but an emergency had pushed those times back by 45 minutes or so.) Later when the family's name was called, her father went up to the desk with her. He spoke in his native language and the daughter translated. She was so articulate and poised and confident for one so young. I couldn't imagine one of my girls assuming that role at such a young age. But then I thought: if we had moved to China when I adopted Tootle at age 3, she likely would have retained her Chinese and would have been outgoing enough to assume this role by age 4-5, knowing that I still would have been hopelessly fumbling to communicate (linguistics is not my forte). I know that when young children take on what are typically adult/responsible roles, it is usually out of necessity and they lose a bit of the joy and carefree nature of childhood, but on this day I glimpsed what can be gained: remarkable confidence and poise.

I wish Tootle had been willing to continue to speak Chinese when she came home but she was determined to make English her only language. I have a neighbor who is fluent in Mandarin and a Chinese coworker who were lined up and ready to work with her to retain at least some of her Mandarin but she refused to listen to them or respond when they spoke to her. She is an obstinate child. Today she only uses one Chinese phrase: "bu yao." She says this when she is finished with her dinner without cleaning off her plate or if she tries something and doesn't like it. Doodle, adopted at 7 months, has a larger Chinese vocabulary than Tootle. More than two years later, there is some hope, however. Tootle has expressed interest in taking the once a week Chinese class offered at her school starting in January. I think she'll pick it up easily and the tones will come naturally, so I have my fingers crossed that we'll be turning in the registration form. I don't believe in forcing my kids to do things that they don't want to do (I may push a bit but I don't bulldoze) so Tootle will have to agree to the class. Conversely, once committed she will attend until the end of the year whether she likes it or not. I don't allow the girls to bail out of things that they've committed to do.

Holiday Card Bloopers

We headed to the mall today for a visit and picture with Santa. As I often do, I brought along my camera and used Santa's set as the backdrop for our holiday card photos. I got enough good shots to create a card with three photos, but I also managed to capture some rather unattractive looks...

Did the girl get any sleep last night, and what about Santa?

Put that camera down right now or else I'm going to blow.

On the Ice

Cast Off

When the nurse sawed off Tootle's cast this afternoon, I was struck by how fragile and small her arm looks. She's still like an injured baby bird. She was very cautious about using her right arm all night although she says that it doesn't hurt at all when she does use it. By Thursday she likely will throw caution to the wind and it will be like her broken wrist never happened. The doctor said that the wrist is fully healed and only gave her one restriction: no monkey bars for another month. She can go ice skating so we likely will head to a rink this weekend. I ordered ice skates for her tonight from LL Bean. They are supposed to be more comfortable than regular skates and are described as being like sneakers. They have to be better than the rental skates, and how can we go wrong with pink.

Two Hershey Bars

We're considering an excursion to Hersheypark's Christmas Candylane when we're in Pennsylvania later this week visiting relatives. The possibility led two excited girls to ask me to measure them. In our household height is measured according to Hersheypark's candy bar coded ride restriction guidelines. This summer Tootle was a Reeses (able to ride the Comet wooden rollercoaster) and Doodle a Hershey bar (cleared for various steel rollercoasters and bumper cars). Tootle desperately wants to be a Hershey Bar and Doodle a Twizzler (cleared for the kind of rollercoasters that I probably won't let her ride). As of this morning, Tootle stands at 48 inches in her shoes, officially a Hershey bar. Doodle, at 53 inches, is still an inch shy of her goal. She should become a Twizzler in time for next summer's trip to Hersheypark. Very few of the thrilling rides are open in the winter (the rollercoasters can't run in the cold weather) so falling short shouldn't matter too much. Doodle, who didn't become a Hershey bar until she was 7, is amazed that Tootle has reached this milestone at age 5. My tall girl is likely to tower over her older sister in a few short years.