Random Bobbin shorts
We've been talking about nicknames. It's in one of her story books, I think, where we came across the concept. I asked her what her nickname is. She exclaimed, without hesitating, "POPPINS!". And so Poppins she is. She's pretty consistent on this answer too. Go ahead... next time you see her, ask her what her nickname is. According to her, my nickname is apparently "honey". Ok.
We were in the bathroom this evening, having her bath. I haven't mentioned anything about Mother's Day coming up. I knew that Tim had though. He's been prepping her for the day because apparently she and Tim are going to get up together, letting mommy sleep in, and they're going to make me breakfast. I have to tell you, I'm pretty excited. The notion of sleeping in alone is pretty exciting. Breakfast of some sort, made by my daughter and loving husband, is a sweet bonus! And so, wanting to help secure this plan for myself, I non-chalantly asked "Hey Bobbin, do you know what this Sunday is?" "Yup!" was her enthusiastic response as she dumped a cup of water over her head and then erupted into fits of hysterical cackles (yes, cackles. Not giggles). "What is it?" I asked. I was expecting her to come back with her infamous "You know?" response, which is what she does to almost every question I ask ("No, actually, I don't know why you just painted your face blue and squeezed glitter glue into your head. That's why I was asking"). But instead she stopped, stood up, and jumped (in the bathtub; giving me a small heart attack in the process) up and down and yelled "MOTHER'S DAY!" and then resumed to dumping water over her head and cackling.
Her favourite story these days is "Odd Velvet". It's been on her bookshelf for about 2 years now but only recently was rediscovered. We've read it 7 times in the last two days. She sent me to bed with it tonight. "Here Mommy, here's a nite-nite book for you. You take it to bed with you, ok? But be careful. Careful mommy. This is a special book, and it can break so you need to be careful. Ok? Ok. You can take it and read it now". She's looking me straight in the eye to confirm I've understood and will comply. That's how I was "dismissed" to bed this evening. With the same sort of attitude you would expect of the Queen dismissing one of her ladies in waiting. "You can go now. We thank you for your loyal service and shan't be needing you any longer today".
Like Odd Velvet, Bobbin is totally into rock collecting. Every article of clothing that has a pocket in it also has about a pound and a half of small and medium sized pebbles in each pocket. Her pants are usually sagging when she's walking, running or playing, because they're weighted down with rocks. We have to thoroughly shake down her laundry before tossing it into the washing machine. Her teacher is constantly scooping rocks out of Bobbin's cubby at school. Bobbin's apparently garnered a reputation amongst the entire school staff for her rock collecting and it's a source amusement as well as pride if any one of them are lucky enough to receive one of these gems as a gift, willingly given by Bobbin. Bobbin spends great portions of her outdoor time combing the playground for rocks, pocketing them, and then depositing them in her cubby when they go back inside, to "keep them safe". Many of her classmates have since picked up the hobby as well. Every time I pick her up from school when they happen to be playing outside, yet another classmate hands me a bunch of rocks. Bobbin of course, insists that I take her rocks first. And I always do. I have rocks in every coat and pair of jeans I own too, as a result. We have rocks rolling around in the back of my trunk and back seat, and in the little trinket cups at the base of her car seat. I have a rather large collection of rocks growing on my desk next to my monitor. Each one lovingly plucked from our driveway and carefully pocketed until she decides to bestow one upon me as a special gift. 24 rocks. That's how many are sitting on my desk as I type this. Eventually most of the rocks make their way back into our driveway. She's very selective in the ones she picks up, but I'm not entirely sure what catches her eye in particular when she decides to pick up a rock. We talk about the texture and colour and shape and relative size of each one. And each one is a marvel to her. My little future geologist.
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