Sisters at the Bus Stop

I take a strange sort of pride in the fact that, while all the other sibling pairs of their age in our neighborhood (of which there are a surprising number) have stopped walking to and from the bus together, my girls are still inseparable. Not only do they walk both to and from the bus stop together and sit next to each other on the bus, but Susan still walks Corinne to her classroom everyday and sends her on her way with a quick hug and "I love you." I need you to understand, of all the amazing things my daughters do of which I am so incredibly proud, their ability to love and be kind tops the list. Always. 

This past weekend the girls had and extra days off school, so I took each one on a mommy-and-me date planned around the particular interests I share with each of them. 

Corinne chose a trip to the library followed by a patisserie, where we could eat something sweet and read. Idyllic, really. 

In an effort at small talk on the drive there, I asked her how she liked her girl scout troop. Which got me the response, "What inspired this line of questioning, Mom?" Later I had the audacity to try to start conversation at the patisserie, and was gently rebuffed, "I'm kinda reading this, Mom." She's 8, going on 38. 

Susan opted for a trip to the thrift store and then a Frosty from Wendy's. She was a bit overwhelmed by the amount of clothing on offer (not what she was interested in). But she did find a kit to build a battery operated robot, which she brought home and put together with zero adult supervision. She didn't love the final design, though, and plans to combine pieces of this one with another kit we already had, in order to build something great. Love that for her. 

Then she built a scale model of the sewing room from the episode of Christine McConnell we watched on Saturday. Out of Lego. Because of course she did.

Dress to Impress

The brief for this dress-to-impress day somewhat facetiously mentioned top hats and bow ties.

Corinne: "Say less."

That her father owns both a bowler hat and a pink bowtie was as taken for granted as the fact that he would lend them to her without question. 

Susan, on the other hand, is quietly terrified of anything that would make her stand out. But the wrap I got in Paris Disney along with my black beret fit the bill perfectly because "it's fancy, but it's also kind of like I'm hiding."

I, for one, am very impressed. 

Bless me, Blogger, for I have sinned.

Bless me, Blogger, for I have sinned. It has been eight years since my last post. 

Eight years of little girl giggles and messes. Eight years of wondering if I'm doing this right, while feeling sure that I'm not. Eight years of absolute certainty that whether I get it right or not, these two little beans are the best things I'll ever do.

Two weeks ago, on a day off from school, I suggested we take a girls trip to a local bakery and then the library. I can't decide which made me happier: their squeals of delight at the idea of spending time with me or their insistence that for such an important occasion only their favorite dresses would do--dresses I made them, but which my daughters treat like haute couture.

And then on Monday this week, the eldest decided it would be totally reasonable to turn eleven. Eleven, I tell you! 

So we threw her a little "cozy crafting party" with five of her best friends. I'm not sure I recommend teaching a bunch of fifth graders how to hand sew a stuffed mouse, but the stamped journals and the pressed flowers luminaries and the beaded sun catchers went off without a hitch. 

And as I discovered on her second birthday, after I toiled away at a five-layer rainbow cake that she utterly detested, Susan is still not a fan of cake. Donuts, on the other hand, are perfectly acceptable.

Nota bene: Susan is worried that the tooth fairy might be overworked. Have you ever lost a tooth and then been so worried the tooth fairy won't see it that you stage an elaborate lighting set-up for it? No? Just Susan things, then.