From the category archives:
Do all moms hate themselves a little bit is what she asks me. She has heard me arguing with my own mother, and I have said, Yes, I know, my life sucks, thank you (voices like bones scraping bones clean) You said a bad word about your life, is what she says. It is true, [...]
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All of a sudden, we hear an odd sound: footsteps approaching, with another sound layered over top. Brushing. Hannah. She is brushing her teeth over again. By herself. With toothpaste.
Sophie and I sit up with a gasp and watch as the shadow of her little sister brushes its shadow mouth, calmly, without tears.
“Wow!” we say.
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Sophie, age 8: “Remember when Hannah had an imaginary boyfriend named Bobby? And then they were totally passe.”
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Sophie: I’ve read every one of my chapter books. Me: Oh, I don’t know about that. Sophie: (eye roll, disgusted sigh) CONSIDER MY LIFE CYCLE. Read, read, read, sleep. Read, read, read, eat, read, read, sleep. Read, school, read, eat, sleep, read, read, read. Me: Your LIFE CYCLE. Can I write that down? Sophie: (eye [...]
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Last night: S: Oh no you DIH-INT. H: OH YES I DIH-ID. S: Oh no you DIH-INT. H: OH YES I DIH-ID. S: No you dih-int ’cause I SAW-AW you. H: OH YES I DIH-ID ‘CAUSE YOU DIH-INT SAW ME! S: I know you cah-ant. H: OH YES I CAH-AN. S: [turns to me, quizzical [...]
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“I’m a dork,” I said to Sophie.
“You’re not a dork,” she said kindly. “You’re just weird.”
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But the girls scowl and frown.
Little Mother Superiors, they remind me
that they are not the best daughters
or the most wonderful little girls
in the world.
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Hattie B gets her hair cut: bangs! Big excitement. We get home. She wanders around, looking for a mirror. Success! I hear her: There’s my little face. I like that little face.
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Bedtime was beautiful! Wish you were there! Why weren’t you there? Uttered last night: 1. So you’re saying the Bible LIED. 2. Nobody loves me not even the animals. Everybody hates me. EVEN PRESIDENT BAMA. 3. I gave you this germ so you should hate me. No, you should. You should HATE me. 4. Is [...]
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My mom and Hattie held up their masterpiece: a drawing of a squiggly snake, a necklace and a shocked-looking girl’s face, plus a few letters.
“Hannah came up with this one,” said Mom.
“Ah,” I said.
Sophie and I worked hard to decipher it. If I understood it correctly, it translated roughly to “SNAKES ARE NOT PRETTY AND NO SOPHIE I WANT MOMMY TO FIGURE IT OUT NO SOPHIE STOP LOOKING AT THE SNAKE.”
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