Hattie Bella and I share a terrible, and terribly unoriginal (if you’re one for tallying gender stereotypes), weakness for jewelry stores. Sophie has her Webkinz; Hattie and I talk birthstones and bling.
A few months ago, she Shirley-Temple-talked a jewelry store clerk into removing a $40K diamond ring from a locked cabinet AND LETTING HER CLUTCH IT IN HER STICKY STEALTHY LITTLE HANDS. Meanwhile, I looked around frantically for a pipe cleaner to fish it out of her throat in case she swallowed it TO MAKE IT HER VERY OWN. It was a terrifying moment.
This weekend, the H-bomb and I ventured into another nearby jewelry store to talk about birthstones. There was a beautiful green peridot ring in the window, three sparkly lime-green stones. I couldn’t help but ask; I couldn’t help but wince when my asking was answered. Ah. No sweat. Neither of us is an August baby. We thanked the nice lady and headed off for a cookie at the coffee shop down the street.
When H. caught me glancing wistfully over my shoulder, she patted me and sighed, “Oh, Mommy, stop dreaming about rings.”
Four years old, so wise. In my defense, I was also simultaneously dreaming about a woodstove, a linoleum floor that does not peel or trap dirt, and a bag of dog food that would not cause Eli diarrhea. I dream big.
AND: Speaking of, tomorrow, April 1st, is ONE YEAR since Eli the Moose came to live with us! He continues to be a gigantic lunkhead with mostly perfect manners, save his terrible flatulence and penchant for stealing stuffed animals, eating his own poo, and rising on his hind legs in excitement when people come over, thus shredding wood and curtains and shinbones. But aside from those things, he is pure hunka hunka learnin’ love, walks like a prince on a leash, and makes me feel all girlish and safe. I know I’m safe because the mailman has totally never ONCE tried to come inside, or, you know, rung twice.
Happy Honorary Birthday, Eli! You woof my world.
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