March

Last Saturday, I went for a run - layered, gloved, and ear muffed - in the snow. Just one week later, I thought about shaving my legs as I laced up in my shorts and T-shirt on the back steps before heading out in the heat of the glaring sun. Hallelujah! for almost unheard of March spring and crocuses in the lawn.

The warm sun gave me time to reflect on the unexpected conversation that I had with Sela before she went to bed last night.

"Mom, how did we get to heaven before we were born?"

"How do we get to Earth?"

"Why do we die?" "How do we die?"

"Do kids die?"

"Why does Daddy love me so much?"

"Why do we have a heart that is always going in our body?"

"Why do we need blood to go in our body?"

"Why do we have a brain in our head?"

"Well, how does our brain tell our body to do things, because it doesn't talk?"

"If babies have brains in their head, how come they can't do things?"

"Why do mommies have different names?"

"How can I be a mommy when I grow up if I am going to be a princess?"

"Why do people want to have babies?"

"Why did you name Skye that if the sky isn't always beautiful?"

Suddenly, I find myself in the dark waxing philosophical about the meaning of life, death, and neurotransmitters all in one conversation with my three year old. Tonight, she started off with, "Mom, I want to talk some more about things in our bodies." I am going to have start a little more preparation for bedtime.

I have felt justified in my quest to get Skye to say my name. If by chance she happens to learn other words along the way, like "Dada", then so be it, but the primary goal is "Mama". As any mother knows (and father if they stop to think about it), this is the proper order. My efforts, however pure in their intent, have somehow backfired. I point to the Dada and state his name a few times (under my breath) as an example, point to the sister, casually say her name a few times, and then point to myself with a bold finger, emphatically repeating, "Mama". Skye, a very smart little girl, catching on to the importance of the situation, now waddles around as she busily goes from task to task, firmly pointing a plump, dimpled finger at herself and repeating, "Mama, Mama."

California

Lots of food, friends, and family. Life is good.