A day of 'yes'

Originally, today was supposed to be filled with a play date, some exercising for me, then a swim birthday party in the late afternoon. The play date got derailed for reasons not worth mentioning, so we spent most of the morning at home.

I lingered in front of the computer as I am wont to do, and found that a few work items bubbled up as I finished my coffee. J was impatient, ready for action based on her previous understanding of the day's schedule. At first she suggested starting a collection of things (sesame seeds from her bagels, a plan I scuttled with a silent frown). Then she piped up that she wanted to make a salad.

I knew immediately what point of reference she had for salad making. Last year she watched in amazement as one of the neighbor's kids 'made a salad' - the then-6-year-old harvested spring greens from the garden, brought them gingerly into the kitchen, drug a chair up to the sink so he could rinse them, and after setting them gently on paper towels to dry, he gathered them into a small plastic container so his mother could have them for her lunch. This independence was something J hasn't really attempted in the past, and you could tell just by looking at her she was thinking, "Wait - what? I can prepare food for someone ELSE?! Fascinating."

She now gazed at the mini, recently harvested bounty sitting by the sink - several pea pods, a handful of string beans, the odd strawberry. I sat quietly, stopping myself from shooing her into the other room to play with her toys rather than upending the kitchen. "Can I Mommy? Can I make you a salad?"

"Sure, sweetie. Do you want to get some parsley and basil from the garden too?"

"Yeah!!"

Let me tell you, she took that damn salad so seriously. Laying out the herb leaves just-so on the counter while she figured out where and what the colander is. Solving herself the issue of hands too little to comfortably snap beans by digging the safety scissors out of her craft bin. I could her her snipping away from the powder room. Proudly pronouncing that she was done and my salad would be chilling in the fridge for whenever I'm ready.

"Should we add some cherry tomatoes, Mommy?"

"Well, we'll want to slice those. It will get too soggy if we add them now. Let's wait til just before we serve it. What do you think?"

She nods sagely, quietly.

Later, she proclaims she wants to make a lemonade stand. After cleaning up the remnants of salad making, I roll my eyes, before stopping myself. I told her to make the signs while I researched the recipe. While she made the signs ("How do you spell...uh, st...st... S! T!...."), I admit I got distracted by an overwhelming need to clean the floor. By the time she finished, she had kind of worked the project out of her system without a drop of lemonade being produced. She disappeared upstairs to play with Bunny, humming happily to herself. I kept cleaning, humming happily to myself.

Watching the clock, knowing the afternoon schedule, I thought to make lunch a bit early while she played in the basement. Hesitating a moment, I grabbed some lemons from the fridge and the sugar bowl. The look on her face when I called her down to eat was priceless. She could not believe I had made lemonade*. We both agreed it was a little strong. And next time maybe I'll try some fresh OJ as a softer sweetener. The afternoon sailed on with more work, a tempo run, and finally, FINALLY, swimming with friends.

On the ride home, I uttered my first real 'no' of the day. After 2 slices of pizza, chips, carrots, MORE lemonade, fruit and an enormous slice of cake, no, you cannot have the Starbursts in your goodie bag. J got over it quickly, noting there was also A! Sticker! Book! in the goodie bag. My GOD the fun. The fact that there was an amazing sky outside helped too. She was introduced to the term 'Thunder Bumper', and we conjectured if the clouds piled miles high looked more like ice cream or whipped cream.

On an unrelated note (and please, if you are sensitive, avert your eyes for the following), we had an unusual occurance on returning home. J played with JBL in her usual frenetic, weeknight way as I checked emails. Throughout the famous 'Do This' game, I heard him exclaim at her, "Did you just gassie? Did you just gassie again?" Laughter ensued as it often does. More playing. A trip to the bathroom, and then back together on the sofa for a quick game of Uno before bed. I hear JBL then cry, "What is THAT? It...it smells like DOG POOP! And it's on your FOOT!"

Sure enough, she had 3 or 4 Milk Dud-sized turds on the bottom of her left foot. He scooped her up and carried her into first the powder room, and then, realizing what ultimately had to be done, the laundry room. All the while he interrogated her, trying to figure how in the hell we had been home for 45 minutes before these little nuggets were discovered. In the meantime, I scampered all over the house looking for telltale signs of fecal footprints, answering the barrage of questions. "Yes she had her shoes on when she came home! No, I didn't smell anything in the car!"

Amazingly, I found no evidence of poop anywhere. Nothing in the carpet, on the hardwoods, even in the bathroom where she had been, and miraculously, none on the pale yellow sofa. My conclusion - when farting some pooplets had escaped and fallen on the floor when she peed. How it got nowhere else, well, I have no idea. I have coined a term for the event: shitmata.

So, other than the shitmata, it was a lovely day and evening. I am proud that all my yesses contributed to what will hopefully add up to a day of happy summer memories.

*One glass of lemonade was comprised of the juice from one and one-half medium lemons, one tablespoon of sugar, about 4 ounces of water and lots of crushed ice. She drank half of it, and finished it before bed when all the ice had melted in the fridge. I think it was nearly perfect with the addition of the melted ice water.