Because this fall is kicking my butt and I can't get it together to blog regularly.
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Liv is working on a solo modern dance piece for her CAPA audition this fall. She has a weekly 1:1 with the patient and kind and fun director of her dance studio; so far they've picked the music and choreographed the required 60 second piece. Now, lots of practice, practice, practice.
I've never seen my kid do something like this before, and I'm fascinated (and proud). Watching her work out the steps she wants to include, then figure out the order and timing of them, then pull it all together... it's pretty amazing. She has always danced as part of a group before, and always to choreography the instructors determine.
She's having a fantastic time, too. She leaves the studio happy and excited every week. Even if she doesn't get into CAPA, this has been a good experience for her. A stretch goal, as my boss would say.
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John and Bea emerged from the playroom the other morning. "We just spent an hour down there playing a new game: Flying reindeer that shoots out of its butt."
For some reason, he felt compelled to add a disclaimer: "It was not my idea."
Bea is on a one-preschooler crusade to take out the bad guys in our house. (And Waterworks shopping center. And Trader Joe's. And the library. And Chinese school.) Apparently, there are a lot of bad guys out there. And you can shoot them with a flying reindeer's butt. Or the engines on the back of a space shuttle. Really, anything will work as long as you can fly it around and make "pewpewPEW pew pew PEW PEW" noises.
Every so often, Bea shapeshifts and becomes a dinosaur or Simba and eats the bad guys. I love those nights because I don't have to cook dinner.
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I am on a parking ticket roll. Which is, um, not a roll anyone really wants to be on. First it was street cleaning (my car was parked on the wrong side of the road).
Then it was an expired meter at CMU, where it costs a quarter for every 7 minutes and the meter helpfully ate three of my quarters before giving me any time at all.
Then it was a ticket for not lining up my car properly with the meter on Forbes in Squirrel Hill. REALLY? I paid the meter, but the people in front of me were parked askew of their meters and therefore, my meter was next to my passenger door (gasp!) rather than the hood. The meter lady (and it is indeed a lady; I see her stalking her prey mercilessly) must have been in a spectacularly awesome mood that day.
Dear Pittsburgh Parking Gods: Uncle.
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Bea's vocabulary continues to be... unique. Her latest is "louding." She demands, "Stop loudin' at me!" when she wants us to stop yelling. We overhear a lot of "I'm gonna loud at you!" when she's displeased with her sister.
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I think I need this chicken. It will be on my Christmas list. My new year's resolution will be "figure out how that damn chicken sees where it's going."