The power of CAT

Poor kid number 2.  I pity you.

First of all, you, as kid Numero Dos gets squat alone time with Mom.  Numero Uno not only experienced complete domination of Mommy's attention for a couple years, but having become accustomed to such treatment still requires significant one-on-one time.  I think Goose had more books read to her in her first year than I've read to you in all your years combined.

Secondly, Mom is less enthusiastic about every new kid #2 does.  "Walking?  Great.  Now I have to bolt all the cabinets and get out the gates before you kill yourself."  "Do you really HAVE to feed yourself with the spoon?  You know I'm really much neater."  (These are never vocalized of course.  Really! What kind of mother do you think I am?!!?)

Thirdly, you get used everything.  Even if you are the first boy.  Why do you need tons of superhero action figures when we already have a bajillion barbies?  Use your imagination. Sheesh.

Fourthly, but probably not lastly, Mom sometime just forgets she has to teach you how to do stuff.  (and may be just a little less patient with you when she does remember)  Like how to write your name.  "What?!  You don't know how to write an R? huh.  I guess I haven't ever helped you do that one, have I?  oops."

But, the advantage of being the second child is that occasionally - if you bide your time, keeping a low profile and watching your words carefully - you can blow Mom's socks off by suddenly and casually revealing how much you've absorbed despite her benign neglect.

For instance asking nonchalantly while driving by a construction site "Hey Mom, why is that a "cat" truck?"

Bwaa?  You can read?!?

Ok, yes, it was just C-A-T.  And you were practically born watching LeapFrog videos.  But you really got my attention with that one.  So, I decided to test you.

"Little E, which word says 'ball'?"

However, you, my little cunning one, refused to be so obviously evaluated.  I know that you know you are pointing to the wrong word.  You thought you could fool me, but that smirk betrays you.  You know 'ball' and you know you aren't pointing at it.  Clown.   I've got you figured out.

And I withdraw my pity.  You don't need it, you're doing just fine.  Don't you see now, this was all part of my plan to teach you self-sufficiency?

Star Struck

            

When I was a senior in high school, I asked a local random stylist at my local SuperCuts for "The Rachel". Instead, I got "The Carol Brady".

I was stubborn and fought the hair for several months until one night when I was lifeguarding an almost empty pool. I complained about my hair to my friend Laura who solved the problem by bobbing my hair with a pair of blunt pool-office scissors.  The resulting bob was pretty cute, but I always wished I'd left my long hair alone in the first place.





I didn't learn my lesson, though...Here are some of the other celeb styles I've taken to my hair stylist:

 Looks great on my sister, but not me.

Did I realize curls in straight hair requires DRYING and CURLING it EVERY DAY?  Even still, the cut I got bore no resemblance.

I asked for Posh's hair, and I got a bob, but my hair ended just below my cheekbone. Stacking in the back?  None.

I tried for this hair, but the stylist did not tell me that my thick hair would poof up and prompt my best friend's mom to say (and I quote): "I never realized how much you looked like your brother before."  Siiiiiiigh.  As an aside, this cut did induce me to start wearing more make-up, feminine clothes and even pierce my ears (at least until my dad found out), so it did do good things for my feminine appearance in the long run.




I realized the big problem here is that I don't have a celebrity face to go with the hair.  So, this last weekend, I went to the stylist and using my old grad school ID, I asked for a repeat of one of the best haircuts I've had.  A slightly longer than shoulder length cut with just a few layers and a bit a face framing.  What did I get?  The Rachel.

Refined

European gardens always seem to have these little fountains. My neighbor has one in their front yard. It's the neighbor with the biggest recent addition and the little boy statue sits next to a large tiered fountain. The whole things is totally out of place for our neighborhood. But, I think they see the peeing boy statue as refined.

Little E must have realized our yard wasn't keeping up; but not to worry, Little E is an independent problem-solver. Rather than gauchely coming inside to take care of business, he generously made an effort to add a little refinement to our household too.

Thanks, Little E.