Matilda is the charmingest thing ever to charm.

Except when she's the whiniest thing ever to whine. Which, sadly, is running neck and neck with the charm. I was just thinking this evening, in the middle of coaxing and wheedling and prodding her to walk home at a rate slightly faster than twenty minutes per block (she wanted to look in various buildings' mailslots, and stop in the neighborhood church to say a prayer thanking God for unicorns, and kiss the broken stems of all the flowers whose heads had been lopped off, and examine every crack in the sidewalk, and complain that her tummy hurt, and, and, and...), how awful I must look to any random stranger walking past:

Here's this wee sprite being all present and in the moment and burbling about kissing the flowers, and this mom with NO MAGIC IN HER HEART. But it's a six block walk, and we've been out here for an hour and it's getting colder by the second! The magic died thirty-five minutes ago!

And thrilled you are talking about this in a totally public place?

I don't think any of his schoolmates lurk here. Anyway, it wasn't that late, completely normative and in preschool. Just noting that boys tend to sort it out later than girls.

I think the thing is that Emmett knows *we* all know him. And if I were him, I wouldn't be happy that got shared at all.

SIL had BIG issues with the m&m bribery, but she was so sick of laundry, and the thing is? D is (and was) goal oriented, as long as the goal is something HE wants. He could have given a shit (literally) about the ook of a diaper. Tyler obviously has other stuff going on.

See, a deadline makes it hard.

We had a deadline/school issue with CJ. A postcard from Mickey Mouse encouraging him seemed to be the last push he needed (one of his day care gals had been down at Disney and got the idea). And yes, he had heard this story and thinks it is kinda cute, so hopefully he is ok with me sharing.

OK, my left hand is a mess. Fan injury from last week: 2 bandaids still cause they were kinda deep and flappy. Scuffed knuckle from I don't know how, still healing. And I just slammed it into the armrest whirling to catch a falling tissue box.

Why I seem to single out certain body parts for torment, I don't know. While back, it was my right leg, sporting all sorts of bruises, charley horses in the pool and bent my toe wrong.

I think the thing is that Emmett knows *we* all know him. And if I were him, I wouldn't be happy that got shared at all.

I am glad someone said something. The MOT (I think that;s what JZ came up with for her?), who I admit has no sense of boundaries whatsoever, mentioned my first period in the yearly Christmas letter. She thought she was sharing something about *her* experience being a mother, I guess. But everyone else was mortified on my behalf. I would be terrified if I had come of age in the era of the internet.

I don't think any of his schoolmates lurk here.

This is so not what I was trying to say.

Anyway, it wasn't that late, completely normative and in preschool. Just noting that boys tend to sort it out later than girls.

And neither was this, actually.

eta:

She thought she was sharing something about *her* experience being a mother, I guess.

And not, say, something you potentially didn't want shared publicly? This. This is much closer to what I was trying to get across.

I've talked stopped talking about it. If you all stop talking about it then maybe the subject will be dropped.

But in Buffistaville is anything ever dropped.

Someone puts the smackdown on Liz Lemon.