Pretty Pretty Princess

There are some striking similarities between me and Rubes: our sassiness, general temperament, vulgarity (the burping and farting does NOT come from the K side of the family), and the fact that we are not morning people are just a few examples. But lately I've been asking myself, "Where did this child come from?"

Lately Ruby has become interested in things that I would call "girlie." Clothes, hair, shoes, etc. And not just her own clothes, hair, etc., but going so far as to comment on my clothes, hair, etc. I should point out here that I am pretty far removed from being a girlie-girl. I am not interested in the latest fashions, trendy haircuts, or the hot colors for spring. On a good day I'm clean. On a bad day ... well, you don't want to know.

Now I have to contend with my 4-year old coming into my bedroom while I'm dressing and making comments about my clothes and offering suggestions for outfits. Seriously. If I happen to put on jeans and a sweater (as opposed to workout pants and a t-shirt) Ruby will take note and tell me, "Mom, you look nice." If I'm going to class and managed to get my hair under control and put on some make-up I get something like, "Mom, you look beautiful!" I'll take the compliments, sure, but I'm also starting to get a glimpse into the psychology behind them and I find it a little unsettling. Am I going to have a girlie-girl on my hands for the next 14 years (and beyond)?

Yesterday Ruby had me fix her ponytail and then promptly jotted over to the full-length mirror to make some adjustments. I watched her do this and after she was done fiddling around patting down her hair I heard her mutter to herself, "Perfect."

Lord help me.

[Note from Dadam: On Wednesday Ruby also made sure that my collars were tucked into my sweater, saying, "This way you'll look like an old man."]

Her Heart Is So Good.

Tonight Cecilia and I were watching Ruby at swimming lessons. Out of nowhere -- we weren't even talking -- Cecilia turned to me and said, "I hope Ruby grows up and fulfills her dreams."

And all I could manage in response was, "Me, too."

Today Ruby and I went out for lunch. This happened:

[Ruby belches LOUDLY, mouth open, with force.]

Momlissa: Absolutely not. That is so rude.

Ruby: No it's not. I have to do it.

Momlissa: No, you do NOT have to do it.

Ruby: Yes I do! It's how I live my life.

Momlissa: [stifling laughter] At least cover your mouth. What do you say?

Ruby: [smugly satisfied] Excuse me.

Ruby smiles sweetly.

End scene.

I Think It's A Deal.

[The family is having dinner.]

Dadam: . . . so, Ruby, here's the plan. We're going to put up a chart for you, and if you get fifteen stickers, you can get that pair of high heels that you want. You get a sticker every time you behave nicely, like being a good listener, or helping out around the house, or finishing your dinner without us having to yell at you, or not fighting with your sister. And every time you do something naughty - like throw a fit, or argue with us, or fight with your sister - you get a sticker taken off.

Ruby: Oh, so then I have one less, like I'm going back.

Dadam: That's right. So what do you say, do we have a deal? [extends hand] Let's shake on it.

[Ruby farts.]

Ruby: Let's fart on it is more like it.

In Which Dadam Explains Acting To Ruby.

[Dadam and Ruby are watching a profile of Harrison Ford on CBS Sunday Morning.]

Ruby: Wait, was that Indiana Jones next to that monster?

Dadam: Yes - you see, this man is an actor. That means he pretends to be different characters - that's called "playing" them. This guy played Indiana Jones, and he also played Han Solo in Star Wars.

Ruby: Oh, okay. Wait, who's Pod Horso?

Little Pleasures.

The disaster in Haiti has provided many opportunities for feeling lucky. And we've needed them this week, since it's been one of annoyances (albeit relatively minor ones) for the Kintopf-Martinez-Sones family. Rubester has been sick the past couple days (just a cold, feeling better today, thanks), which has meant some sleepless nights and grumpy moods for her and Mom and Dad. And yesterday, we learned that all the non-backed-up data on the hard drive of our iMac, which suddenly and inexplicably committed suicide just before Christmas, is likely gone for good. This includes many photos of the girlies as well as some videos, and Momlissa has been taking that loss particularly hard. Last night she vented a bit, leaving no question in the minds of her listeners what she thinks about Apple and the alleged superiority of their products.

When I went into the other room, Cici was crying, having overheard. "I hate that company," she said, balling her hands up and wiping her eyes. "Everyone who works there should be fired." I talked to her about how it wasn't so bad, and how so many people this week had lost everything - homes, clothes, families, lives. She calmed down and went in and hugged her mom. When she came back out she had an idea: she and I should go to the grocery store (under the pretense of buying peanut butter) and pick up some old-fashioned donuts - Momlissa's favorite treat - as a surprise to cheer her up.

Donuts are not something we would usually have in the house, but they tasted pretty good last night.

Ick.