Beckie had Oswald or some other dumb-ass kids show on in the living room.

What G said:   “you wanna watch Oswald [or some other dumb-ass kids show] with me?”

What G meant: “I’m so happy you want to watch Oswald [or some other dumb-ass kids show] with me.”

I turned to Beckie, she turned to me.

What I said: “Did you notice she asked me to watch   Oswald [or some other dumb-ass kids show] with her?”

What I meant: “Is she seriously going to make me watch Oswald [or some other dumb-ass kids show] with her?”

Beckie nodded sympathetically.

What Beckie said: “She asked me to watch   Oswald [or some other dumb-ass kids show] with her too.”

What Beckie meant: “I’ve been stuck here watching   Oswald [or some other dumb-ass kids show] with her”.

Its cute how she wants to share her interests with us, but a total chore to have to appear interested.   I could almost handle it when she watched the TV and I could at least work on my laptop, but now I’m a prisoner.   This is just a prelude to the horror of 1st Grade plays and dance recitals — at least now my captive attention is spent on G, 2 hours watching the boring crap of a bunch of other kids is more than any parent should be asked to bear.   I may have to buy an iPhone; can kids see that from the stage?   Why can’t she just do something civilized like blog about it, and pretend that there are “other people” out there who “care.”

G woke up before me, as she has been doing lately, so i stumbled into the kitchen to get her some chocolate milk so i could attempt to sleep a little longer. Sooner or later, I heard the clanking of plates and whatnot from the kitchen. So like a responsible parent, I continued to lay there in bed and hoped i wouldn’t hear any crashing, screaming, or hissing from the cat. Then G appears in the bedroom holding 3 apples, big giant softball-sized apples, apples the size of her head that barely fit in her two hands.

I woke up hearing this: chomp. crunch crunch. tumble thunk roll. uh-oh my apple! here it is! tumble thunk roll. uh-oh my apple! got it! tumble thunk roll.

Of course G was not satisfied with eating from just one apple, or putting any apples down – they all took an equal share of biting and abuse. If they bounced, it would have been funny; instead they just left little moist patches on the tile. She carried them around the house and back all morning. She sat them next to the shower and periodically opened the door to take a bite of a different one each time. She nibbled on them at the kitchen table while i made her eggs which, oddly enough, she had little appetite for. Then for some reason she decided to start eating a much smaller golden-delicious apple.

Well, yet again, I’d rather her make a mess with fruit than junk food.