"Hello my baby, Hello my Dawling....

....Hello my Ragtime Gal". Courtesy the dancing frog from the Warner Bros. cartoons. Do you remember him? He would perform only for his owner and no one else. When others were around he would simply "ribbit". Well, I have one and she's my little girl.

To quickly explain myself, we went to a class, the little girl grunted, groaned and wriggled. Then she screamed (at the highest pitch imaginable) and released her inner demon while wearing a frilly purple tutu. We left the class immediately upon this squeal and the scream stopped instantly. I teared up and found myself wiping a tear off my own cheek, before worrying about her woes. Then I couldn't catch my breath. It was like Grade One all over for me. When my mom came to get me from school and I was trapped behind all these desks that were formed into a circle. Being stuck behind one of the desks still haunts me like a challenge on Survivor. That feeling of protecting the feelings of my teacher and I did not want to be rude and leave the circle. Nor could I figure out how to get out?!?!? I panicked and sobbed until I lost my breath and I found myself gasping with the sobbing hiccups. I am approaching 37 and I did it all over again. This time, my mother was not standing at the door waiting for me. She was at home, and I found myself using Instant Messenger to reach her thousands of miles away.

As for Little Bumblebee, turns out she wasn't keen on the lesson plan. And she could communicate that with me most eloquently upon our departure. On the car ride home, there was little to say to one another. Although things turned around pretty quick and before I knew it she was in the back seat singing some pop tune from the early 80s and having an imaginary conversation with a toque, that was perched on her head like the CN Tower one minute and the objet d'affection the next. She took her assignment home from class and was able to complete it at home with ease.

"Why didn't you want to complete your project at school?"

"Because I wanted to do it at home!"

If only life were simpler. And then I tell myself, "Big deal. Move on. No one will remember you in this life for being the parent that pulled her screaming daughter out of the class room at the ripe old age of 3.56! No! Smarten up Willow." My kind and wise mum told me that it really isn't the end of the world and I'm sure I'll face bigger obstacles when I am 47 and she's 13.74. Won't I?

And the day is not over. We have to inspect the Halloween costume, detain the dog from her patrolling duties, pour piles of candies into a giant Rubbermaid tub and thank god *Steve* came home to share his smelly socks and pumpkin obsession with us. If it weren't for great GO train service, I'd be up in bed with the covers pulled up and pretend that it is only a melodramatic Joan Crawford costume. Only with lime green wool socks that Granny knit me.



signed, the willow

Stop eating the Halloween Candy

You have experienced it every year. Buy the candy and everyone eats the candy. So we refueled our supplies today and of course all the good stuff is gone, the expensive stuff is left. I'm guilty too. I ate my share. We were playing hide the chocolates on the trail today during our walk with gimpy dog.

At our swim today the little girl dramatically recreated a scene from one of her many princess movies. She had this sad look on her face and recited "It's so sad. And I feel as though I have tears rolling down my cheeks." I guess the drippy chlorine made her feel sad. Then she revealed it was the sappy music. The Doors quickly changed that. Then followed by the dancing aquafit gals. Gotta love the octogenarians in the pool be-bopping to disco tunes from the 70s. Weren't these poor ladies too old for disco then too?

I scrounged up some things in the rec room that spelled out the date for the day.

We miss you Gramma & Grampa. Please come visit us soon!

signed, the willow

So much for yoga

Just when you think the day is done and you can look forward to 25 minutes or so of yoga. No. We picked up my husband at the train station from the city. After forgetting to bring my camera with me there for the past few weeks, I did get a photo of the big willow that makes my heart flutter and eyelashes grow miles longer. I love the wind in the willows. Right after this picture my daughter took a major fit and said and did things she regretted. So did I. All while my husband (let's call him Steve - that is his alter ego) was instructed to "DRIVE!" "Go Steve. Go! Get us home right now!" With all the ascending screaming and accelerating kicks, I just about threw her Barbie "cello-phone" out the window and into the QEW's Toronto-escaping traffic.

The willow.

signed, the willow

Today is Altered Book Day

Altered Book practice.

For my mother who dabbles in the art of altered books and made me appreciate the art of collage through my childhood. You go girl. And here's your chance to try your hand at doing it digitally.




signed, the willow

Where do dreams come from?

This morning when my little lovey woke up she immediately started to tell me what I thought was going to be a lengthy description of her dreams.

Instead she told me that she tried to dream of Cinderella and it just didn't come to fruition. Here is what she told me "I told Dad this and it's very important. Behind each and every feather in your pillow there is a dream waiting for you."

Who told her that? I haven't got to the bottom of it yet, but I will. Was it her own idea? Did her dad give her that thought? Who knows. She's probably been sent here by the aliens to keep us up at night for extended periods, rob us of our sanity and scream at such a high pitch that other alien-like creatures will hear her 75 kilometers from here.

signed, the willow

Things I find around the house Episode 1

This is it - in the mind of a 3.56 year old. She left me this pile of things she cut out and had the ambition to do a craft with.

signed, the willow

Bath Time

The other day we were out and about. I can't remember exactly which store we were in or what we were perusing or being sucked into that day. Anyhow, I overheard a lady telling an older woman (who I assumed to be her mother) that her son had requested a bath "at 5:15 in the afternoon!??!?!?!?!" Goodness me! Can you fathom it? Requesting a bath at that time of day? What was that little boy thinking? OK, I'll put my sarcasm to bed right here and now. Am I the only parent out there that believes if your child asks you for a bath you jump at the chance? You run at 7 miles per hour up those stairs and run that water as fast as you can for them. You throw as many toys as you possibly can into that bathwater. You get it to just the right temperature and you even allow them have a night off of hair washing. Right now, it's 8 a.m., I have not breathed a word of this story to my 3.5 year old and she's in the bath since she asked me for a bath this morning at 7:45 a.m.?!?!?!?!? What the H-E-double-hockey-stick was I thinking?!?!?!?!?!? And yes, I brought the laptop in here with us....that's what I call courage.

signed, the willow