Andrew, going nuclear: “If you two don’t knock it off and go to bed, I’m going to take a screwdriver and take that door right off and throw it away.”
<large pause>
Maggie: “You can’t even do that!”
Andrew: “Oh yes I can!”
I’m downstairs giggling even though I shouldn’t be. Giggling, that is.
We celebrated Maggie’s fifth birthday today at Highland Park. Maggie is a brash, confident, dynamo at this stage in her life. Her party, at her request, featured rampaging around the park, pin-the-horn-on-the-unicorn, various unicorn- and rainbow-themed crafts, cupcakes, and then more rampaging. I love this firebrand who believes absolutely that princesses can save themselves. Happy birthday, Maggie!
Maggie: MAMA! THESE ARE GIANT BUNNIES AND…
Me (whispers): Can you please use your quiet voice?
Maggie: THESE GIANT BUNNIES…
Me (whispers): Maggie, please use your quiet voice.
Maggie: THIS *IS* MY QUIET VOICE!
Me: 
😳
🙄
It’s this kiddo’s EIGHTH birthday today! This sweet one, who made us parents, who makes his brother and sister feel loved, who more often than not has his nose in a book these days, whose energy is palpable, who loves snuggles before bed, who is gracious and kind…fills my heart to bursting to be his mom. Happy birthday, Griffin!
Maggie: “I don’t want to play any games. I only want to read D&D books!” At which point she heads upstairs and does just that.
(Note that she can’t quite read these books yet, but she loves looking at the pictures, especially the gruesome monsters.)
Griffin: “Maggie’s been getting into the bad hobbit of brushing her teeth for only 30 seconds.”
Future Tolkien geek.
Maggie: “Oliver, you’re the best person in our whole family. I love you more than Mama. I love you more than Daddy. I love you more than Griffin. You are better than anyone.”
At least we know where we stand!
Maggie kicked off her spring break with a cinnamon roll nearly as big as her head.
After I got home from school today, Maggie called me upstairs. She specifically requested me, rather than Mama, which is somewhat unusual. As I reached the top of the stairs, I saw her proudly holding one of Sarah’s new dresses, as if she were wearing it, with most of it bunched up on the floor.
I laughed and said something banal, but Maggie decided she wanted to show me what it looked like “for real.” She started yanking aggressively at the zipper at which point I began to wonder if this was a good idea. I asked, “Maggie, are you sure Mama is ok with this?”
“Well,” Maggie ponders, “I did it this morning too!”
I slowly digested this, when Sarah’s voice floats up the stairs, “What you meant to say, Maggie, was, ‘Mama told me I’m not allowed to wear her new clothes.'”
“Oh yeah.” Maggie rolls her eyes and tosses the dress back on the bed.
