Eggcellent question...

Alex has had a pretty solid bedtime routine for most of her life.  It has evolved over time, but currently includes...

• Brushing teeth
• Putting on PJs
• Watching a TV show of her choosing (unless it's too late or we have had behavioral issues)
• Read a book
• Mama reads a book to her
• I sing Twinkle Twinkle
• I sing "La-la's" (Twinkle Twinkle with la-la-la replacing the last three syllables of each line... don't ask)
• She asks me to stay with her for two minutes
• We talk for two minutes
• Sleepy time

It works well and we almost never have bedtime problems.  Routine.  Routine.  Routine. 

The other night as I lay with her and talked for two minutes, she got quiet.  And then, without looking at me or raising her voice above a hush, she asked me, "How did you know how many eggs there were?".  I told her I wasn't sure what she was asking.  She said, "You know, when the Easter Bunny came, how did you know how many eggs there were?"

This was months ago and I had to think... and then remembered that when she was searching for eggs I thought I'd be a great parent and make it a math project.  I told her there were 25 eggs.  "Okay," I said like dope, "you found 14, how many more are there?"  She always knew the answer and I patted myself on the back... fast forward to the question... How long has she been working this out in her head?

I told her that the bunny left me a note designating the number of eggs to insure that she wouldn't miss any of them.

"Do you still have the note?"

Jesus... I was starting to sweat a little.  I told her that I had recycled it.

"Why would you do that?

I rambled an answer about helping Mother Earth and quickly decided that her two minutes were up and kissed her goodnight.

I am going to have to be more careful...

Alex unpacked...

We went to Maine for vacation... it was wonderful.  We rented a house and ate and drank and swam in the freezing cold ocean.  We rode a trolley and took a tour on a lobster boat and wandered the quaint little tourist trap town.  And, we went for a hike...

Alex has been on many hikes in her life.  Right down the road, ten miles off the coast of Maine, Switzerland... she is no stranger to the hike.  Except for the hiking part.  She has spent almost all of those hikes in a backpack being lugged around by one person or another.  But, on this trip, we ventured into New Hampshire to hike to the summit of Mt. Major with no backpack in tow...

Five miles of walking, half up half down.  1100ft in elevation change.  Maybe a bit much for the first try.  She was whining before we ever got out of the parking lot.  We headed up.  And up.  She would get distracted by nature and be fine for a while.  then the whining.  Distracted by a snack.  Whining.  She thought she couldn't do it, then we reached the summit...

It was like she drank four Red Bulls.  Energized, happy, enthusiastic... she ran around and marveled at Lake Winnipesaukee below us. 

We had lunch and rested.  We talked and gazed.  She was a delight.

Then we started down.  Probably shouldn't have pointed out the parking lot which was a speck below us.  She started off like a trooper at first, happily searching for the trail markers.  Then a little melt down... she couldn't do it.  Pepped back up when we had to navigate jumping rock to rock to cross a stream.  Melt down.  Happily collected rocks from a river.  Melt down... and so it went, but we went...

The final melt down.  She was crying.  Huge tears streaming down her cheeks.  Her feet hurt.  She was tired.  Can't somebody please, please carry her.  We could hear the traffic... smell the lake... almost see the parking lot, and she wouldn't budge.  It was heart breaking and funny and infuriating...

Finally Michele talked her off the edge and they slowly made it, holding hands, through the last few steps to the car.  She did it.  She did it!  I am proud of her... and have used it against her many time since.  "What do you mean you can't walk to the Farmers Market, I saw you climb a MOUNTAIN!"...

Swimmingly...

Alex started taking swimming lessons at Goldfish Swim School about a year and a half ago.  We had done a few baby classes together before that, but with me in the pool she was reluctant to let go (like fingernails digging in me neck reluctant).  With me out of the way and on the other side of the glass, she took off.  They are great and she learned fast and loved it and rose in the ranks.

They have many levels for classes, and a set of skills you must accomplish to move on.  Last week her instructor moved her up again...

Yesterday she began Goldfish Pro level.  The last level before you start on the swim "team".  She was nervous and excited...

She did great, but was not quite ready for the work load.  They swam a lot.  Like a lot.  More in one class than she did in a month in the last class.  No rest.  Little instruction.  Go.  Go.  Go.

By the end, when she was expected to swim 10 continuous lengths of the pool, she was done.  She would make it a few strokes and then just tread water until the in instructor came to her rescue.  At which time he gave her a push and a hardy "keep going!".  It was a struggle, but her rosy little cheeks never stopped smiling.  I think we'll be in this level for a while...

Pop goes the weasle...

Alex digs music.  Maybe not the music we want her to dig.  She is all about pop music... she calls it "her" music.  As in, "Daddy, may you please turn on MY music?".  As in, "Daddy, that's not MY music!". 

She either knows all the words to the songs on XM Hits 1, or mumbles along to pretend she does.  It is often disconcerting (due to the content of the lyrics), but if she is anything like her mother she doesn't actually care what the song is about.  They like the music... I am the only one burdened by the words.

She has chosen her instrument as well...

God help us.

*Conversation in the car yesterday immediately following a Justin Beiber song...

A:   Daddy, is Justin Beiber a boy or a girl.

W:   A boy.

A:   Huh.  It's hard to tell.

Could only be funnier if she meant it to be.

Alex the photographer...

Recently Alex has been very interested in the camera.  She keeps asking to use it and then runs around the house for an hour snapping shots and immediately admiring them on the little screen.  She is almost always impressed with her work.  Frankly I am too... here are a few examples from last night (only a few... there were a bunch).  Some of these are pretty interesting...

For art's sake...

Alexandra has not historically been a big drawer.  Mostly lines and geometric shapes and big dark smudges made with markers pressed too hard.  Lately though, she has started to draw actual scenes... without prompting.  Three examples from this week...

Left:  A recurring theme lately... multicolored flowers holding up her name.  She draws this daily and I have yet to tire of it.

Top:  I first thought this was random shapes, and I loved it.  Now I am convinced that it is an angry ninja... winking.

Bottom:  I did not see her draw this, but I did hear her.  She drew this scape as she sang an original song about how the flowers love the sun and asked it to draw them a rainbow.  And then sang each color and why it was great.  She's great.

Getting the business...

Michele has been warning me for roughly five years that the way I talk to Alex is going to come back to bite me in the butt eventually... and then...

INTERIOR SUBURBAN HOME - EVENING

A loving father toils in the kitchen preparing dinner while his five year old daughter plays quietly in the next room.  He hasn't heard any sounds for an alarming amount of time.

FATHER

Alex honey, what are you doing in there?

ALEX

(With the sass of a sitcom teenager, presumably wagging a finger)

I'm minding my business... you should try it some time...

END SCENE

No one to blame but myself.