Some things....

No this picture isn't digitally manufactured. Maya really is this big, Ella's hair really is this messy and her teeth really hadn't been brushed.

Things are flowing smoothly and harmoniously here at casa de Carver these days. Ella is, for an unknown reason, sleeping really late in the mornings, taking long naps and (the only downside) going to bed a bit late. Maya is also sleeping well (sorry every blog mentions sleep - it is a premium in our house) and sometimes both girls aren't up until 8 or even 9 am. For me this means time to exercise. I couldn't be more pleased about this after having given up a strenuous exercise program I was halfway through when Maya was born (why did I start it? you ask. Because I like to try to accomplish more than is humanly possible.)

But really I want to let you in to some of the creative inner workings of Ella's mind. Last night when I was putting her to bed I was telling her a made-up story in the format we often use where she fills in details about the characters and has input into the plot line. Last night's story was about a bear who comes out of hibernation because he is hungry and cold. He goes to the doughnut store and what kind of doughnut does he buy? "A star-pocket dewey doughnut," Ella says. When that one didn't taste good, he got a purple "This Old Man doughnut." And when he was still hungry he went down the street and, luckily the ice cream stand just happened to be open on a cold winter's day, and got a purple "gamilla ice cream cone." To remedy the bears issue with the cold I let Ella pick a blanket for him at the store. She could choose between a 2 inch thick, 4 inch thick or 1 foot thick blanket for the bear. What did she pick? A paper blanket. Poor bear. I don't think we helped him out too much.

And lastly, Ella and I were eating dinner the other night while Sandi was at work. She told me her chicken was very tasty and some of it was spicy (pepper). A few minutes later she pointed to it and asked, "What is this?"

Now I sensed what was coming, the denial of the thing she had, moments ago, adored. I answered with the Spanish word for chicken: "That's pollo." She shook her head regretfully. "Oh," she said sadly. "I don't like polo." (and she pronounced it polo instead of poyo.)

She finished dinner quickly as usual and wanted to get down. I asked her, "Would you stay with me and keep me company while I eat?" (after all I had spent all of her eating time getting my dinner.) "Of course I will Momma," she answered sweetly. "But can I go play now?"