Pointless Drivel

Dressing Herself

The Shmunkin normally gets herself dressed in the morning.  And the evening, for pajamas.  Every once in a while, when it occurs to her, she likes to lay out the clothes the night before:

A Movie Gets In My Eyes

Wake-up time in our house can be a crap shoot. You never know who will be waking up in The Shmunkin's bed. Sometimes it is my sweet, darling little princess. Sometimes it is the Wicked Witch of the Far East. Sometimes she will wake up as one and, for no apparent reason, will suddenly become the other. Like the other day, when she woke up in terriffic mood, which soon became a holy fit when none of the five pairs of socks I offered from which she could choose were the ones she wanted.

(Those are probably the days when I try to get her moving to quickly. I know how she feels. I need time in the morning, too.)

Lately, Shmunkie has taken to lying awake in bed for a while before actually wanting to get up. I can hear her up there moving around a bit, playing with some of the myriad of friends she has on her bed, reading one of the five or six books she insisted needed to be in her bed the night before, or just talking to herself. It actually helps, because she is more slowly easing herself into the day.

This morning was one of those days. In fact, sounds indicating she was awake started at about 6:30, and continued until I actually went in to start the morning routine. She sat up with a very happy, amazingly pleasant look on her face, and said, "I had a really good movie inside my eyes."

"Oh," I said, "what was it about?"

"A princess" Princesses are her current fascination.

"What was the princess doing?"

"She was getting married."

"Were you there, too, or were you just watching."

"I was just watching. It was very pretty."

She must have been dreaming about today's special day at Big Girl School. All week has been something: Pajama Day on Monday, followed by Crazy Hair Day, Backward Day, Hat Day and, of course, Dress Up/Costume Day. Her dress up day outfit was a Snow White costume, princess tiara, fairy wings and magic wand, with red, plastic high-heel shoes.

As soon as she walked though the door to her classroom, her friends came over, one yelling out, "Oh, [Shmunkie], you look beautiful!"

Thankfully, no one was dressed as a groom.

Pat-Pat-Pat-Pat-Pat

We are currently in the middle of a bold new experiment.

If you remember, or even if you don't, The Shmunkin has always been something of a momma's girl. When we first got her, nearly three years ago in China, it took her about a day to get used to the Ways and Means Committee, but wanted little or nothing to do with me. Any time I tried to hold her, or change her, or feed her, or, well, even look at her, she would scream in terror.

It's gotten better, but she still leans toward the Ways and Means Committee, especially when she needs comforting.

But this week, the Ways and Means Committee is out of town. Gone to New York for a professional conference on Pain Management and Rehabilition, or something like that. At least, that's what she claims to be doing. So far, she has been to the Statue of Liberty, the World Trade Center, and Time Square. She claims that was only the day they arrived, and the conference actually started on Friday, and I suppose I can take her word for it, but I'm not there to see it myself. Last night, she called around 8 in the evening (9 in New York) to say goodnight to The Shmunkin, claiming she had to hurry because she was in the middle of some conference-related event. And anyone could clearly tell that was definitely not a live band in the background. It was more like Karoake.

But the point is, she is gone for three nights, and The Shmunkin and I are together alone. I was quite concerned about this, wondering if she was going to be okay. Just to make sure she feels special and excited, I moved her into bed with me, so she can keep mommy's spot warm, and she was very excited about the prospect. Still, I worried. Would she be able to get to sleep? Would she be in a good mood in the morning? Would she wake up in the middle of the night, screaming for mommy?

Nope. None of that. Oh, sure, there is the usual amount of fooling around at bedtime. The first night, after she had been in bed and quiet for thirty minutes or so, I heard the tell-tale pat-pat-pat-pat-pat-pat or her little feet going from one room to another, then pat-pat-pat-pat-pat-pat back again. Then again. And again. And again. And finally, it was quiet. Curious, I gave it another ten minutes or so, then went to check. She had moved about half of her stuffed animal friends into the bed -- a considerable amount, to say the least -- and had them arrayed around her lilke some sort of cuddly, fuzzy Stonehenge, and was very proud to announce, "I made a nest." But other than that, there has been no trouble. In fact, dare I say it, she has been even better than she normally is.

Now if I could just figure out a way to break the news to Ways and Means Committee.