7 colors a week

Peanut can tell you what color every day of the week is. Monday is green, Tuesday is blue, Sunday is her favorite color, orange. Each day has a different color.

No, she's not reading auras or anything supernatural. She's talking about her underwear. Once she was potty-trained a few months ago, I took her shopping to choose her own undies. Much to my disappointment at the time, she chose the day-of-the-week undies; each pair has a different day of the week printed on it. My first thought was, "Great, now this falls on ME to get the right pair on her each day." It's hard enough for me to remember what day it is. Now I have to coordinate undies too?! Then I remembered she can't read. Perfect.

It turns out I'm too anal retentive (love that potty-training double entendre) to ignore the writing on the undies. So, I made sure she had the right undies on the right days from the get-go. And Peanut still loves it. Before she had the colors memorized, she would ask at bedtime, "What color is tomorrow?" When you're 3, it's important to know the color of your undies at all times.

So, in the words of Peanut, "What color is today?"

Personal Jesus

Who is pretend? Who is not pretend? Jellybean asks this about almost every singer, character in a book and person on TV lately. Her definition of pretend in these instances has just one criterion: Can we visit him/her in the flesh?

It started with "Annie," which is her favorite music. She asked one day if we could go visit Annie at her house. I explained that Annie is just pretend -- there is a girl singing the songs who is pretending to be Annie. Simple enough.

Then, "Can we go to Sesame Street sometime? I want to visit Bert and Ernie." Again, pretend characters in a pretend neighborhood. Comprehension.

L and I read her chapters of The World of Pooh, and she asked, "Can we go to the woods where Pooh lives?" We have woods by our house, so she just assumed he lived there, until I explained that the whole concept is pretend. I cushioned the blow by reminding her that we can "visit" by reading the book.

As I've mentioned before, her preschool is at a local church. The other day, after preschool, I was getting her ready for naptime. We settle into her bed and she asks, "Is Jesus pretend?"

Budding novelist

Jellybean has been "writing" books at preschool lately. She's done one at each of her last three preschool days. I put writing in quotes because she is actually dictating the books, but because she's responsible for the content, I think it can be considered a form of writing.

The books are small, about 3 x 3, made out of construction paper and drawing paper. She has created illustrations for them, almost entirely in purple marker, so that each page looks like it's almost straight out of Harold and the Purple Crayon. The pictures are so small, they didn't come through well on the scanner. You'll just have to use your imagination.

I couldn't resist sharing, so I am reprinting them below, with Jellybean's permission and I promise no copyright infringements here. As you will note, they are not particularly plot-driven, but they do carry some themes. Twilight series, look out!

Book #1:

Mama is taking me for a walk. A thunderstorm! I hug my daddy. That's Mama taking Peanut to the doctor. That's Daddy going to work. Daddy's fixing dinner -- noodles!

Book #2:

That's Peanut going to music class. That's me eating breakfast with Mama and Peanut. That's me, sleeping. I hear a thunderstorm and I'm with my grandma. That's Mama taking me to preschool.

Book #3:

That is Mama. She is sleeping. Mama is going for a walk with me. I am sleeping. Mama is with me and my sister. Mama is coloring.

The new Facebook

L and I have been into Facebook now for a few months. We frequently discuss it around the house, as in, "Now I'm friends with such-and-such on Facebook..."

Apparently, the kids have noticed our conversations about Facebooking (yes, it's a verb, because "social networking" just doesn't capture it). Peanut came up to me this morning and said, "I want Facebook." I was like, "What?"

She ran away and returned clutching a board book in her hands. "Mama, read Facebook please." So, there you have it: Here is Facebook for the under-4 set. Now I know why this book has been incorporated into so much playing lately. They think they're Facebooking!

Boy plans

It is a fact that men make social plans differently than women. I'm not man-bashing; it's just true. My husband has told me, and he has proven it many times over.

Take last week, for instance. Our neighbor invited L to play guitar one night. So, that was the extent of my knowledge. "Fine, you're going to play guitar. That should be fun!"

Just making conversation, I asked, "Where are you going? Like a studio or someone's house?"

L: "Don't know. Boy plans."

Me: "Is it a big group or small group?"

L: "Don't know. Boy plans."

You get the idea. So the next day, L told me it was even bad by boy plan standards. They were going to a guy's house, and they didn't have directions or his phone number, and they only barely knew where he lived.

I bring up boy plans right now because I'm living in the midst of yet another set of boy plans tonight. L's buddy from law school, John, is in town for the night because he has some business here tomorrow. I didn't know for sure until this afternoon that he was coming (it had been a possibility for a couple weeks), and I (we) didn't know any details of his visit.

L and John are out on the town now after John had dinner with us. The only question remaining is whether John is staying the night here. L invited him to do so a couple weeks ago when we found out about the potential visit. L has not asked him since then if he is actually staying. That must violate some tenet of the boy planning.

So I guess I will find out in the morning if we have a houseguest or not. I'll make sure to wear my long pajamas tonight just in case.