And this is four?

The past 48 hours have been rough for Rachel. I'm not sure why exactly, I'm just going by her general demeanor. Which has been cranky. Frustrated. Extremely put out. Nothing has made this child happy for days.

Last night Rachel's bath water was too cold and then she didn't want to sit in the available spot in the tub. Then she complained about the body wash and then, oh my goodness, I did not hand her the washcloth fast enough. As she was expressing her displeasure she waved her hands around - the better to make her point - and her right hand splashed into the water. At which point she screamed, "I don't want to be WET!" Which made me laugh. I'm only human.

My unfortunate parenting misstep caused an F4 level storm of rage to spew forth from my baby. Anna glanced over at the tantrum going on next to her and calmly asked if she could get out. I'm pretty sure she actually rolled her eyes as stepped past her sister out of the tub.

Twenty minutes later the whining continues, with some foot stomping thrown in for variety. I seek refuge in Girl Scout Cookies and get caught. Rachel sees me sneaking one in the dark kitchen and immediately begins her interrogation.

"WHAT is THAT?" she demands and holds out her hand, somehow expecting to be rewarded for two hours of screaming. I take a deep breath and tell her she may have one as soon as she eats her dinner. I think briefly about fleeing before the next onslaught but I am too late.

"I don't want dinner! It's yucky and disgusting! I don't want you to talk to me! Don't look at me! DON'T LOOK AT ME! I don't want..." Suddenly, and for the tiniest second, she stops. She turns around and marches back to me. "I WANT YOU!" She throws herself onto my leg.

Four on Rachel looks so very different than it did on Anna.

Well trained

"Pretend you're Sleeping Beauty and I'll kiss you awake," I suggest.

Rachel's eyes light up for a moment before she squeezes them shut and ever so slightly puckers her lips in her feigned sleep.

I lean over, pausing for a moment to watch the corners of her mouth begin to dimple as she holds back laughter, and finally kiss her. Her eyes fly open and she shrieks.

"AAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!" She slaps my cheek. "Don't kiss me!"

Leave it to my little girl to rewrite the fairy tale.

Is this five?

Anna spent a full twenty minutes today shining a green Tinkerbell flashlight through a glass of water.

First it was a tall glass that had a pattern on it and then she insisted on a short, unadorned juice glass. She walked around the house, turning off lights and holding the glass up to different surfaces. She observed how the reflections looked against the wallpaper, the cabinets and various pieces of furniture. She looked at the patterns in the bathroom mirror.

Finally she returned to the kitchen to ask me, "Is this science?"

So far, five is kind of awesome.

The child has excellent comedic timing

For the last year and a half Rachel has been sleeping with Scooby Doo. The relationship began with an innocent soap dispenser and is described here. When it became clear that Scooby was in Rachel's life to stay, the soap dispenser was replaced with a much more appropriate plush toy who usually stays in Rachel's bed with her three other bedmates: a pink teddy bear, a baby doll and a red-haired doll - all named Shauna.

A few days ago Rachel finds a random baby doll and shoves it with her usual tender grace into a baby carrier. "Mommy, my baby's name is... Chana." This doesn't surprise me, Chana is Anna's Hebrew name.

Minutes later Rachel takes a stuffed kitty toy and squeezes it into the carrier next to baby Chana. "Mommy, my baby's name is Chana and my kitty's name is Chana. All of my babies are named Chana."

Dan and I try our hardest to hide our giggling but we lose all control as Rachel continues. "But my last one is Scooby."

Two conversations

I don't often play the "I'm going to tell Daddy" card with my kids. Mainly because he doesn't do much disciplining. Dan telling the girls that he's going to tell Mommy brings a much more repentant reaction.

The girls do not like it when Daddy is upset though, and if they actually think he will get mad they usually snap back to their senses pretty quickly. One night last week while giving Anna a bath I had to use the threat: "I'm going to tell Daddy and he is not going to be happy."

Anna's head bobbed up over the side of the tub with a total Anna response: "Then why are you telling him?"

*******

Dan was cuddling with Rachel on the couch when she suddenly asked him: "Daddy, are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

Stifling surprised laughter, he answered: "I don't know, what are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking about... Hannah Montana."

"Then, no."

A Jewish daughter at Christmastime

"Mommy, I can't WAIT til Christmas."
"Ok, well you know we don't celebrate that, right?"
"Well it's still going to happen."

Sunday night we had a family Hanukkah party at Dan's cousin's house. His cousin's husband isn't Jewish and their gorgeous home is covered with a really nice mix of both Hanukkah and Christmas decorations. Anna came upon the stockings hanging above the fireplace and asked Dan, "why are those socks so BIG?!"

The girls represented nicely, chatting about Santa - they really like him, even though they don't believe he's real and they know he doesn't come to our house - and saying the prayers over the Hanukkah candles along with everyone else.

It's been really nice holiday season so far. Of course we haven't been to my side of the family's celebration yet. I might have a totally different post after tomorrow night!

Moment of clarity

I'm in the car running errands with the girls in tow when up ahead I spot my old apartment building. I point it out to the girls and completely blow their minds by mentioning that I lived there before I even met Daddy. Anna can't believe that I lived alone and asks if I was lonely.

Immediately my mind flashes to the days when I had no one to take care of but myself. Beautiful quiet evenings spent eating what I wanted and choosing my own television programming. My bed all to myself and no one asking me for anything.

As I stop at the red light in front of the building I assure Anna that it wasn't so bad and that I even enjoyed living by myself. She ponders this for a moment before posing her next question.

"Are you happier now that you have a family?"

Still stopped at the light, I turn and look at the faces of my children. The answer is obvious but the strength with which I feel it hits me hard. "Absolutely," I say. "A million times happier. Nothing makes me happier than our family."

My daughters beam at me and Anna points out that the traffic light is green. The girls crane their necks to see the building as we pass and we continue on our way to the bank.