Mostly Buffy

Harry Potter and the Freen Tane

by Buffy

Dumbledore kills Harry just a little bit. Then Harry gets back with Hermione and Ron. Snape goes in a tree and then falls down and he has lot of blood. Then he does, doesn't he? He dies. Voldemort kills Dumbledore. I have to sing my songs with this, k? (plays recorder badly) Then, um, Dumbledore kills Voldemort and Harry gets back to Hermione and Ron and that's the end.


What do you think, J.K.? Good enough for Book 8?


Katie's new favourite tv show is Trapped. This is significant, because until now she's been a Cbeebies girl. Trapped is on CBBC, the children's channel, rather than the young children's channel. Still no commercials, thankfully (and none of those "not a commercial" idents that PBS has in America), but the content is decidedly older. The concept of the game show is a group of children must outwit their captor or become TRAPPED! The catchphrase, uttered a zillion times a show is, "Poor unfortunate (name), you're TRAPPED!"

Since we have two children who like to hang out together, Buffy also watches this show. She just likes it because Katie likes it, and there's nothing about it that stops us from letting her watch. I'm not sure how much Buffy gets out of it beyond the catchphrase, but by god has she got that. A week or two ago she was colouring in a book and was writing everyone's names. She writes her name pretty well now, and Katie's is fair. Daddy she has, but Mommie comes out "MOMOMOMOMOMO". Actually, that's how she calls me when she wants me, so that's pretty good, too! As she was writing my name she circled an "M" carefully. Then, taking just as much care, she scribbled it out. Then she cackled, "Poor unfortunate M! YOU'RE TRAPPED!"

Sunshine, Lollipops and Roses

My mom just sent me this:

I don't care if you lick windows,
take the special bus
or occasionally pee on yourself..
You hang in there sunshine, you're friggin' special
Every sixty seconds you spend angry, upset or mad, is a full minute of happiness
you'll never get back.

How bitterly appropriate to our day with Buffy. It was a wonderful day, full of family, good food and laughter. And then there was the ride home. I should say here, it was not my ride home, because Katie and I dashed off to another party. It was Andrew and my mother's ride home with Buffy. During the ride Andrew found himself telling Buffy to stop licking the train. It would be frustrating enough to have to tell your three-year-old to stop licking something so obviously disgusting. It would also be frustrating enough had we told her repeatedly not to lick disgusting things. Imagine our frustration in having told her on at least four separate occassions, specificially to STOP LICKING THE TRAIN!

Oh, and she peed on herself today when we got home. The way she recounted it to Gramma was, "I came home and I changed all of my clothes then I decided to pee in the corner and then Daddy got cross and I had to have a bath."

Yeah, pretty frigging special!


Tonight in the bath.

Buffy: Look, Mommie. It's Herb!

Me: (confused) Wha?

Buffy: (grabbing shampoo bottle) See? Herb!

Me: (a bit slow on the uptake) Oh! Wow. Yes, that's Herbal Essences. Honey! Did you hear what Buffy just did?

Andrew: (a bit quicker on the uptake than I) Wow, Buffy! That's great!

Buffy: (ever patient) It's like my book. H-e-r-d!

Andrew & Me: (thinking) Dang. For a second there, we thought we had a genius.

Where Our Tuition Fees Are Going

Yesterday, following Buffy's first day of school, she explained to me how bees make honey. "First you need some water, then the bees fly around the flowers, and then you squeeze their bums and out comes the honey!"

Andrew got today's gem, which follows on very nicely from her spelling obsession, "Daddy, do you know what this is? A-R-S-E?" Daddy just looked at her and hoped she'd tell him the answer. She didn't, but he was spared having to answer himself.

I won't tell you what we pay in fees, because it would make your socks go crusty, but I think it's safe to say that whatever the price, it's worth every penny.

Our Widdle Baby

Our little tiny, precious, happy baby. The one that was never truly tiny. Born chubby and hairy, happy and with full appetite. Still, our baby. She's three. Turned three years old yesterday. Still chubby. Still hairy. Still happy. Total freaking monkey, though. Today she broke open a pen and DRANK the ink. Surely this is something normal children do not do? As I was cleaning her up, I may have muttered a word like "stupid". She burst into tears, tears that hadn't occurred to her as I was railing against all that was inkified. She sobbed to me, "I am not stupid! I am a very, very nice girl!"

Yes, she is. She is a nice girl. Yesterday we had an absolutely delightful picnic in the park to celebrate. She was delightful and sociable. She thanked everyone for coming and appreciated each gift. Then we came home, she slept and the next day she DRANK INK FROM A PEN!

She is a veritable gold mine of embarrassing stories. If she doesn't like our telling these stories when she's older, that's just too bad. She should have behaved better. I have a sneaking suspicion that our little show-off won't mind too much when we tell her embarrassing stories to her boyfriends. Heck, she'll probably tell them herself. Maybe even with a bit of reinactment. Goodness, Baby, stay away from the ink! (And the poo!!)

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