Minky & Me

Lately Minky likes talking on the phone and she thinks, charmingly, that callers can see what she is doing. For example the other day she said, “I’m drawing, Daddy,” and held up her magic marker to the earpiece so he could get a good look.

My family left without me on vacation yesterday. I am all alone for the first time in years. It is a little eerie. I’m not sure what to do with myself.

When I was younger I spent a lot of time by myself and enjoyed it. I used to love going to the movies alone. I definitely don’t feel as comfortable about it now, since I have had the constant buzz of other people around for awhile. It’s funny how you can change that way.

The part about this week that will be hardest is not having my Minky with me.

We checked out Sing Along Songs, The Bare Necessities yesterday from the library. It’s basically karaoke for the six and under set. The words appear on the screen along with the musical scenes from beloved Disney classics like Dumbo, The Aristocats, and the Jungle Book.

Just now I put on a swim diaper, coated Minky’s entire body in sunscreen and pulled on her bathing suit. Without The Bare Necessities this would have taken upwards of a half hour. It was done in five minutes.

I’ve got to buy this DVD.

Off for another day of swimming.

Several weeks ago I told Coco that Daddy needed a private moment in the bathroom and that we couldn’t disturb him. Tonight while playing with a truck out on our patio, she suddenly announced, “I’m pooping. I need a private moment.”

Quelle dommage means “what a shame” in French. I have been saying this to Minky in the last few weeks as a precursor to some sort of discipline. This technique–from a book called Love and Logic–involves choosing a phrase to use every time your child disobeys in a way that calls for a consequence.

As an example, Minky likes to run through the house at break-neck speed with her stroller. Often she drives right into Rocky with it. She knows that this is not allowed but does it again and again–while I’m watching!

According to Love and Logic, when she rams her stroller into Rocky, I say, “quelle dommage,” and have her sit down for a bit.

I don’t remember what had preceded us asking her what quelle dommage meant last night but she didn’t hesitite before answering, “it means sit down.”

My daughter is a small replica of her father. They have the same everything except for the obvious difference that she is a girl and he is not. Before she was born, I never imagined she would look just like me but now when people go on about how much like her father she is, it does make me roll my eyes (in a mostly good-natured way).

I got frustrating confirmation last week that personality-wise it’s the same thing. We were swimming with friends at a club nearby when Minky ran off and jumped into the 3’ end of a swimming pool. The fact that I was running after her did not deter in the least, in fact it made her run faster.

After pulling her out and depositing her on the nearest lounge chair, I began a lecture about how unsafe jumping into pools without mommy or daddy is. She patted the air with her hand several times and said, just like her father, “easy, easy Mommy. It’s going to be okay.”

I have taken to asking Minky, “are you my Larry Jr?” Her answer sometimes is yes. Other times it’s, “no, you’re MY Larry Jr!”

I like to sing for Minky. Most of the time when I do she shouts “stop doing that Mommy.”

Yesterday while driving to meet friends for a swim, I warbled “Can’t Take My Eyes Off You,” by Frankie Valli.

That song is part of my “bay-beh” collection. It seems that Minky is amused by the songs that employ an exaggerated pronunciation of “baby.”

When I finished singing, Minky made a comment from the backseat: “lu ba she’s ma.”

I had never heard this expression before and a half a dozen times I said, “what honey?” Every time I said, “what?” she said, “lu ba she’s ma,” which told me she meant something very specific. I felt badly I didn’t understand.

After a bit of silence I asked her what song I should sing next.

“Lu ba she’s ma.”

Then it dawned on me. She was asking me to sing Be-Bop-A-Lula by Gene Vincent. One night while holding her it popped into my head and I have been singing it for her ever since. It’s an “oldie.”