a rugs life

She loves taking photos. She looks through the lens, and uses the preview screen.  I try to breathe normally as she runs around pointing and clicking, hoping she’ll stay steady on her feet. The camera’s owner, a professional photographer, assures me repeatedly that this is a ’second-string’ camera, worth but a fraction of its original cost, suitable for pre-K shutterbugs. I must believe him.

Someday I know she’s going to ask for one of her own (and throw my checkbook into anaphylactic shock).

In the meantime, she’s taken to it like Niri Pinky-Ming to his/her fishbowl. She looks like a natural to me.

Photo by Tom Luongo  (more)

There is a new member of the household.

Niri Pinky-Ming, a Betta fish, has taken up residence in the living room. Originally puddle-dwellers, Bettas are renowned for being hard to kill, which is just our kind of fish. They’re low-maintenance, too: no bubbles, filters, or live plants required. 

Isn’t s/he beautiful?

Niri Pinky-Ming had his/her first bowl cleaning last weekend. Rada helped ladle out the dirty water and add more clean water.

According to Rada, Niri Pinky-Ming’s name actually changes depending on the time of day. It is Niri Pinky-Ming in the morning, Gaia Pinky-Ming in the afternoon, and Casey Pinky-Ming in the evening. As Rada said this, I nodded pleasantly, thinking, “in your dreams”.

Ben’s post on his son’s activities, reminded me of Rada’s most recent accomplishment. Last week, she and Ian were playing noisily in the front room while Ian’s mom Laurie and I were trying to chat-chat in the kitchen. All of a sudden the noise level in the front room dropped to an industrious whisper, and Laurie and I breathed a sigh of relief as we no longer needed to talk over the din.

After enjoying 10-15 minutes of relative peace and quiet, I strolled into the front room, just to say hi and check in.

To my surprise, Rada and Ian had stacked every single toy onto the couch.

(Notice the empty shelves to the right.)

Apparently the couch was a truck in which they were going to transport all of Rada’s worldy possessions.

Impressed by their teamwork and ingenuity, I also expressed hope that the truckers would  ’unload’ their cargo when they reached their destination.

She already had many; but I broke down and got her more.

Sunday night, I bounded out of bed at 3 am and started looking for the two children.The two children? Yes, Rada and the baby.

My daughter is morphing and I don’t like it.

Until recently, I had her figured out, pigeon holed. We had our routine: snacks, reading, the video, playing with stuffed animals, dinner, fun in the bathtub, more stories, and then to bed.

But recently she has started to change. Her little mind is developping. She’s turning into more of her own person. She wants a say in scheduling the day’s activities. She exercises veto power in choices of babysitters.  I find myself deep in negotiations with her on what she gets served for dinner. And she makes compelling arguments for a later bedtime.

I’m not sure I like it. I had her pegged at 5 years old. I had her down pat. And now she’s a whole new person; its like starting all over again.

I really liked her the way she was. Why is she rocking the boat?

Oh I know, I know. This is just the beginning. She’s going to turn into several more different (and probably interesting) people before she finally settles into adulthood. But oh my, it is exhausting.  I had no idea. Its hard to keep up with her.