Today is Sarah’s birthday. As Brinley is looking out the window at the cul-de-sac, she spots some neighbors walking by.
“Mom!” she says, “shall I get them so they can sing happy birthday to you?”
“Dad,” Brinley says as we’re singing songs in bed for nighttime. “What’s the biggest number there is?”
After a beat, I say, “Eleventy-million-billion.”
“I love you more than that, Dad.”
This morning Brinley is asking all sorts of questions about what princesses do.
“How many times a day do they brush their hair?” she asks as she brushes her hair.
“How many times do they brush their teeth?” she asks, brushing her teeth.
As I’m getting ready for work, she asks, “Where’s your king shirt?”
“My king shirt? What does that look like?”
She runs to my closet and comes back with a plain white tee.
“White shirts are king shirts,” she says, handing me my king shirt. “Wear it.”
One must always do what a princess requests.
“Papa!” Micah beseeches, holding up his poop-covered hands to draw attention to this current moment’s predicament.
In the bath tonight Brinley is making “potions”. While crafting her latest concoction, she gives me a mischievous look and says, “I just put in my special ingredient.”
“Oh, yeah?” I say. “What is it?”
“Lac-toast!”
Brinley balls up her hand into a fist, sticks it into a cup, and says, “Look! My punch fits in there.”
Micah’s name for our mean cat Regan is “Ow”.
Brinley has lots of snarls in her hair tonight as we’re brushing her hair. Finally fed up of dealing with the painful brushing, she says, “You gotta stop it, man!”
Brin is hungry before bed and fields our suggestions for a quick snack.
“No,” she says to each idea until Sarah says, “How about some cereal?”
She grins slightly, then says, “Yes, that will do.”
“Guys!” Brinley tries to interject while Sarah and I are talking about being able to curl our tongues. “Guys!”
We go on talking, because sometimes grownups just need to have a conversation.
“Guys! Stop squabbling.”