Skipping Town

Dear Elsa, "Elsa" is what you prefer to go by these days, as we've lost you to Frozen fever. You've loved shows before and learned favorite songs from "Sofia the First" and "Doc McStuffins," but nothing--nothing--has captivated you quite like Frozen. Like every other child in the country, you belt out "Let It Go" over and over again for much of the day, adding more of Elsa's motions each time--shrugging off her cape, tossing away her crown, conjuring the ice castle, stomping to create a giant snowflake, running up an ice staircase. You and Greta (who's always Anna, of course) reenact scenes from the movie, with you feeding lines to Greta and then bursting into song. I never thought I'd have so much fun seeing a child of mine swept away by Disney, but there we are. You're sick of winter. We all are. For the past couple of days you and I have lamented all of the wonderful things we'll do once summer finally get...

We were a busy household last week. Andrew flew to California last Sunday, and Mom and Dad arrived a little after that to help out for a few days. The girls were thrilled to see them, of course. Lucia had a busy schedule of preschool and a birthday party, so Greta got lots of one-on-one time with Gra and Pop-Pop. Both girls were beyond excited last Tuesday, when our Frozen DVD arrived in the mail--we marked the occasion by giving them each Elsa and Anna dolls. Lucia's reaction when she pulled them out of her bag was priceless--a gasp, a scream, a face of total disbelief and joy. She should be excited: these dolls are sold out everywhere. Mom and Dad got the Annas after searching several places in Southwestern PA; and Andrew had made a late-night run to a Target in a nearby town after the Target website claimed to have the Elsas in stock. Neither girl has been without her dolls since. A highlight of the week was a dance party in the basement, with both Lucia and Greta dancing movi...

Every single night, when I go up to check on the girls after they've fallen asleep, I find a random assortment of things in Greta's crib, which Lucia has tossed in. All the pacifiers are always in there, and I've also found bath toys, Greta's night light, stuffed animals from her storage basket, and much more. One time I found a large "artwork"--styrofoam peanuts on cardboard. Every night, I tell Lucia not to go in Greta's room. Greta always falls asleep quickly, and I'm afraid, one of these nights, Lucia will wake her up when she makes her crib deliveries. "But she wants them," Lucia has said. "She likes when I come in." I've always discounted her claims. We've tried to get this to stop, to no avail. At least, this has been my impression of how things go. Last night, I learned more. About ten minutes after I went downstairs after finishing up Lucia's stories, I heard Lucia walk into Greta's room--and Greta start t...

Dear Baby Grets, Way back, when you were a tiny, cooperative little baby, cute as a button and doing everything exactly right--sleeping well, eating spectacularly, going with the flow--it was impossible for me to imagine ever getting mad at you, or ever having reason for anger at all. Oh ho, little one, how low you have brought me. You are still cute as a button, still beloved and lovable, but you are also the most willful, stubborn, uncooperative two-year-old I've ever had the joy of raising. Your terrible-twoness coincided, unfortunately, with this endless winter, and leaving the house--which of course requires socks, boots, and a coat--has become all but impossible. A trip to Target or Trader Joe's used to get us through a particularly long morning; but now, the nightmare of getting you ready renders such trips pointless. No perusal of the dollar bins can possibly be worth what we have to do to get out the door. But you are also lots of fun right now. You love playing wi...

Dear Little Lulu, This is a very late letter, but at least it's here. This has been a crazy month, highlighting one of the central frustrations and phenomena of parenting: the more time we're cooped up at home, the less time I have to do anything. We've been at home a lot a lot a lot the past few weeks because of this crazy winter, so things like timely blog post have fallen by the wayside. Anyway. It's been apparent for a month or so now that you are becoming much more kid-like. You have friends at preschool whom you enjoy playing with. You love Thursdays, when you get to stay for "Lunch Bunch" and soccer. You have an amazing memory and are almost too observant; you forget, and miss, nothing. You aren't all that interested in playing games on the iPad anymore, but when you do play games like Fruit Pop, you're uncannily skilled: swiping your finger to link three fruits, connecting fruit chains to coconuts, spotting groups of fruit faster than me so...