Pockles and staw-bebes

Willow is really talking these days.  She can say just about anything, although she needs an interpreter for lots of her words.   Today I felt so bad for her.  Poor thing asked to sit in her high chair and eat.  I asked her what she wanted and she said, "staw-bebes!"  Strawberries.  We don’t have any, and I told her so.  I think that she thought I didn’t understand her word, because she kept saying it over and over, pleading with me to understand.  Finally she asked to get down from her chair.  She walked over to the freezer, rested her forehead on it and said, (in her Tom Waits-on-helium croup voice) "mama, pockle?"  Pockle is popsicle.  I told her we were out of those, too.  She sighed, and sadly walked into the other room.  Then, she came back and said, "Mama?  Chalk-it-chips?"  I gave her extra.

So.  My mom and my littlest sister are in Paris, my brother is getting ready to go to Hawaii with his wonderful girlfriend, John’s brother and also his friend M are in Toronto.  I want to go somewhere.  If we can afford it I want to rent a convertible when I turn 35 this fall and take a road trip somewhere.  Anywhere.  I just want to go.  Maybe gold rush ghost towns or something.  Know of any good Northern California road trip destinations?

Sophie is shrieking at me.  Lovely.

2 thoughts on “Pockles and staw-bebes

  1. snakehairedgirl

    That’s the best story. I told it to my husband tonight and we just laughed. Having a 2 year old is frustrating and fun! When M. gets really frustrated with us he launches into a long gibberish-y chastisement. It’s hard not to laugh, but he is so serious about it–with hands open at his chest in the most sincere explanatory way.


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