Friday, June 27, 2008
Girls, Caillou and Tools
A part of my childhood is revisited daily in my household. A part I only remember through stories from my parents, but is so intimately familiar that I feel as though I live it every day. Because I do.
Each morning and evening, I set Laura up on the edge of our bed and brush out her long hair. She LOVES the hair. HATES the brushing. She cries at the slightest pull and behaves much like I'm torturing her so I've learned to ignore it. I'm sure my Mom got to the same place with me resulting in my first hair cut at age eight where I went from long, long hair to a pixie in one visit to the beauty shop. Needless to say, I don't have a fondness for them to this day.
Anyway, to avert her attention while brushing out tangles we often employ either a bigger brother to play with her, singing with Mommy, or we turn on Caillou on who resides in the on demand feature of our cable programming. I love on demand. It is a partner with me in creating a calm, relatively scream-free atmosphere just before bed. Of course Laura is able to get herself together enough these days to tell me what it is that she wants me to do with her hair, but that is a whole different discussion.
Last night as I was brushing out her hair after her bath and wondering what I was going to do with it for the night, Caillou was learning how to problem solve and use tools. It prompted this conversation:
Laura: Mommy, I want some tools.
Me: Oh? What kind of tools?
Laura: Pink tools. *I work hard here to not snicker out loud*
Me: Of course. What kind of pink tools.
Laura: I need a wrench (pronounced wench), a hammer and what is that other thing called? The long thing?
Me: A screwdriver?
Laura: Yes, a screwdriver, that's it! I want a pink wrench, a hammer, and a screwdriver. Just pretend, Mommy.
Me: Of course.
There is a pause in the conversation as she watches more of Caillou. Then she adds:
Laura: I want one of those things in pink, too. A tool box. Like Caillou's with a handle that is pink and everything.
Me: But Caillou's isn't pink. It is blue.
Laura: I know, I know Mommy. But I want a pink on to go with my wrench, hammer and screwdriver!
Me: Of course.
Laura: So get them, okay? Then I can help you fix all sorts of things around the house after the boys break them.
Laughing out loud at this point is inevitable. I can't help it. She has such a practical view of life, doesn't she?
And so it goes here on the homestead. :)