1m2aSandbox

During the school year, I get up early to work out – not because I’m a morning person, but because if I don’t do it before the day gets going then I don’t do it at all. And if I don’t work out regularly, all my old dance injuries fall apart and I can barely hobble around. So I get up a few times a week at 5:30 a.m. to work out and shower before getting the girls up for school.

But it’s summer now and we’re not on a tight schedule, so I’ve been setting my alarm for 7:30 instead; this lets me sleep in and the girls are usually still asleep by the time I finish my workout video and head for the shower.

Usually.

We went over the weekend to a swim party at the pool where Maddie took swim lessons when she was three and four years old. An indoor pool, the space has a nice layout, no truly deep spots, and plenty of pool toys.

And a water slide.

This water slide was Maddie’s arch-nemesis both years of lessons. As the grand finale of every swim class, the slide would loom large over the entire half hour until the class would head down towards it for the last five minutes. One by one, the children would line up, slide down, and splash into the pool.

Except for Maddie.

A few weeks ago, I wrote about Cora’s recent discovery of the game “Sorry”. I won a couple times, she had a hard time dealing with it, and I was worried it was Candyland all over – all smiles and sunshine until Someone Other Than Cora won: then it was on to screams and throwing of pieces and storming off. Would Sorry be simply Candyland 2.0?

I won’t keep you hanging – the answer is no.

Cora is older and wiser, and after one night of tears and a very good sulk, she decided there’s a better way to deal with losing.

Learning how to win.

Maddie and a friend went back-to-school shopping yesterday for a couple new outfits for school. In general, Maddie’s good about letting me go shopping for her by myself; she trusts my judgment, gives me a few pointers color- and style-wise, and is happy to see me bring home the bags from a consignment store. But for the first day of school, she’s come to enjoy shopping with a friend – getting excited, squealing over colors and fashions, and gearing herself up for the fall. And yes, it might seem a tad early, but we’re going on vacation (in case I haven’t mentioned it yet today) soon and I don’t want this hanging over my head when we get back.

May I just say, I’m glad it’s over.

A few months ago Maddie had a play date at a friend’s house, someone whose mother I only casually knew from school. When she returned home a few hours later, her eyes were shining with happiness. “I had the best play date EVER!” she cried. “When can I go over again?”

I smiled. “I’ll talk to your friend’s mom and see what we can set up! What was so fun about this play date?”

Maddie sparkled. “We watched television the whole time, and her mom let us eat a LOT of candy!”

Oh.

We had an unexpected treat this weekend: friends invited us over to have lunch and swim, and we ended up staying for almost nine hours having a fantastic time. We ate lunch by the pool, swam for hours, changed into dry clothes, let the kids watch movies and play like puppies while dinner was readied, ate dinner, and then swam some more. By the time we went home the girls were exhausted – the good kind of exhausted.

Our friends have a diving board, and Maddie and Cora were all over it. They lined up and jumped in for HOURS. Maddie did “trick” after “trick”: jumping like a pencil, jumping in the straddle splits, and so on. Cora was enamored of the deep part of the pool, and would cling to the side, take a deep breath, then dive down in her snorkel mask, pushing herself down the wall, to touch the bottom of the pool twelve loooooong feet away before popping up again like a cork, smiling insanely.

The girls had a great time.

Yesterday morning Cora had a friend over to play. While the young girls giggled happily together, Maddie a bit of the old man out, I took advantage of the pint-sized distraction and cleaned a couple of rooms. Maddie, bored, ambled into where I was and said, “Mom, can I talk to Elise on the phone?” Maddie’s friend has been out of town a couple weeks and my daughter was clearly missing her – as well as looking for something to do that didn’t involve helping five-year-olds dress up the cat.

“Sure, kiddo, let me go get the phone and call Elise’s mom on vacation for you, and she’ll hand you over to Elise if Elise is available.” I was headed towards the house phone when Maddie said, “And Mom? I really think I should get my own phone for Christmas this year.”

We have celebrated July 4th several different ways as a family over the years: when we lived in New York, we’d throw a picnic blanket on the floor and watch the Macy’s fireworks show out our window on the horizon. A couple years ago we went to a minor league baseball game and had a fabulous time, with fireworks at the end and everything. Last year we were in Florida and watched distant fireworks from the beach.

This year we discussed our options. There are several places in our area to see quality fireworks; the problem with them all is that they’re all, um, outside.

Yesterday the girls and I played at the pool all morning with friends, bringing a picnic lunch to prolong the fun. After we got home I hustled the girls into dry clothes and ran a few errands with them before heading back home to get Maddie dressed for ballet. As I scurried both girls out the door, rushing to avoid being late, I handed Cora a bag I’d packed for her with fun stuff to do while Maddie took class: markers, coloring books, and the like.

“Here, can you please carry your bag? I put water and a snack in it,” I said briefly as I struggled into my shoes.

Yesterday Brian and I took the girls to a children’s science and technology museum for the afternoon. We had a great time learning about friction with bumper car models and spinning on a top to bring the idea of centripetal force home. Brian and Maddie had just finished building a very nice Lego house and we were all meandering our way back out the door when a staff member approached me and said, “Excuse me, our dissection of a cow’s eyeball is going to begin in two minutes if your daughters would like to come watch.”

I looked at Brian. He looked at me. I took anatomy and did more than my fair share of dissecting so I was happy to go splash around in to some vitreous humors, but what would the girls think?