Easter Eggin' - Day 616
We took Anna to our little park to have her Easter egg hunt, which she thoroughly loved. For a short couple of days, she referred to it as the Easter egg park, but now it has strangely become the tupperware park. Maybe this is because all the park equipment is plastic.
Anna has recently become very demanding, and the usual request is to "go outside walking." Tonight, when we asked her what jammies she would like to wear, she said: "outside jammies." We are constantly given the hard sell nowadays. Every request is aimed at the larger goal of getting outside.
Another new thing she is into is ramps -- yes, those gentle inclines supplied for people in wheel chairs. She loves a bank on Pennsylvania Avenue that has one, but today after a pooh emergency, I had to make a quick exit and head home. Of course, Anna wanted more ramps, so in a moment of weakness I promised to take her to the ramps at the Museum of Natural History (during spring breaks and the height of high-school field-trip season). The museum was packed with 16- to 18-year-old teens, precisely the age cohort that cares least about kids. Anyhow, with some extra watching, she got through it fine.
Anna has also be pulled off the waiting list for music class and will start her lessons next Thursday. We will see how that goes. The last swimming class didn't go so well. She melted down before it and into the first five minutes of the lesson until we started kicking and she remembered that it was fun. Now when we ask Anna when she cried recently, she says: "Anna cried at the swimming lesson and the doctor checkup." Once in a while she will even add: "Sometimes babies cry." That's right, sometimes they do.
One more picture here. It is again one of Anna in the Easter Egg/Tupperware park.
The last thing to tell from the week is that she has been really interested in the flowers that Daddy has planted, and now that she knows her colors, they are extra fun. Since I am usually with her when I water them, she is often standing on the sidewalk observing the watering routine. Well, Anna doesn't just like to be a bystander, she is extending her fingers as far as they can reach -- tyring not to step in the mud -- to point at specific flowers that she feels I need to water more thoroughly. The routine usually goes: "Dadda, Dadda, need to water orange flower. Dadda, Dadda, need to water yellow flower." Later on it just turns to commentary, "Dadda is watering mud." I guess I sort of am.