Interlude with the Bird and the Bee
posted in OmegaDotter, OmegaGranny |Yesterday, in the midst of my bleary-eyed weariness, I managed to make contact with Singing Bird to arrange to meet for lunch. SBird is headed off to the East Coast to introduce her daughter, The Bee, to the family, and we wanted to get together before she left.
So OmegaGranny and OmegaDotter and I all managed to pull ourselves together, get bathed and dressed and hair combed to look presentable, and schlepped off to the local eatery to meet up with The Bird and The Bee.
The Bee is–to put it bluntly–a darling. She’s smart and funny and sweet, and amazingly well-behaved for a two-year-old. As a result, I have baby lust (again).
The dotter was charmed. A baby! Somewhere in the midst of all the socializing, she said to me, in a somewhat harried voice, “I’m sounding just like a mommy!” Dotter and Bee colored together, and played the hand game (you know the one, where people layer their hands on top of each other, and the person with the hand on the bottom pulls it out to plop it on the top of the heap, and it ends up with everyone just flapping hands all over the place and laughing…). The dotter, at the same time, was not charmed at not being the center of attention (her preferred spot), but did a yeoman job of trying to put it behind her.
After a yummy lunch, we kidnapped SBird and Bee over to GrannyJ’s house, where we played puzzles and the dotter decided to paint Bee’s fingernails with her new purple fingernail polish. Bee wasn’t quite sure how to take this, and kept turning puzzled and somewhat perturbed looks at her mom, as if to say, “What on earth is this person doing to me, Mommy??”
Bee was a special needs adoption; she has a cleft lip and palate, which need some more surgeries (due in September). In the meantime, her parents have taught her sign language, and she “talks” up a storm. Right now, she’s not allowed to have milk products, as the pediatrician is trying to figure out if she has allergies; the dotter’s milk cup ended up next to Miss Bee, and Miss Bee, wasting no time, tried to abscond with it. I removed the straw, thinking that would stop any prohibited substance abuse, but Miss Bee immediately picked up the lidded up, eyeballed it, saw where the straw came out, and promptly tried getting milk out of the straw hole.
Oops! Little stinker!
It was a delightful interlude.
Onto other subjects: OmegaDad is bedded down for the night in Great Falls, Montana. While he thinks most of Montana is “kick-ass gorgeous!”, Great Falls falls flat for him. The dawg is behaving well, OmegaDad thinks satellite radio rocks, and, since he has the laptop, he is able to play Scrabulous while talking to me and the dotter on the phone.
In the meantime, I am sitting on the floor with a borrowed laptop, hooked into mom’s DSL router, writing this blog post while she writes her own. It’s very handy having her available so I can ask, for instance, how to spell “yeoman”, and whether it is “Great Falls” or “Grand Falls”, and she can gripe to me about her photo program saving edited photos in mysterious places. It ends up being a very sociable approach.
