Preschool. Wednesday. Yay.

Preschool starts on Wednesday. I think maybe I've mentioned it before, but incase you didn't read it on twitter or sprinkled in and out of practically every post I've written since they accepted our application...I'll tell you again, Alice starts her first day of preschool next Wednesday. I'm excited. Alice is excited.

Up until last night that's as much thought as I've given it. "Thank the dear lord this little bitty, blonde hair ball of defiant energy is starting preschool soon! HALLELUJAH! There is a heaven after all and it opens at 8:45 five days a week! Sweet Jesus!"

Then last night it hit me, my baby is going to preschool...five days a week...sigh. Sob. Sob. Sob. For five enitre half days I will miss my baby. Well, maybe I won't miss her all five days. I'm sure that first morning when she's insisting she's not eating breakfast or getting dressed, screaming NO! at me, and throwing her toys...yeah, I imagine I won't miss her much that day. Or the morning I come downstairs to marker on the kitchen floor, it's likely I'll leave drop off skipping and whistling a tune. And the first morning I get to watch Regis and Kelly...wait, I hear since the last time I was able to watch the show Regis left, what is it now, just Live with Kelly? Anyway, I digress. The first morning I can sit peacefully with my coffee and drink it hot without having to microwave it three separate times, I think I'll still be rejoicing that day too. But mostly I'm going to miss my little sidekick.

Since the moment the OB stopped screaming "Hard as you can! Hard as you can! Hard as you can!" and placed the tiny 6lb 15oz baby on my chest we've been inseparable. We do everything together. We go everywhere together. We have a bond that only her and I share. She wants to be just like me, complete with lines on her forehead and the ability to roll her eyes effortlessly. And I want to be like her, to see life as one big playground where the goal is to have as much fun as you can. We've taken on every adventure that comes our way together. Every challenge, together. Together we provide each other with comfort. Together we are strong and can do anything.

And starting Wednesday, all that will be just a little bit different. See, my baby is growing up. She's ready and so am I. We need it. It's time for both of us to spread our wings just a touch. As excited as I am for this next chapter in our mother daughter relationship, I am equal parts sad and maybe even a fraction fearful for what's next. She is too. We will adjust to the newness and who knows, maybe our relationship will flourish with a few hour break from each other every day.

And to Alice, since I know one day you will read these words written about you, you have no idea how much I love you, how proud I am of you. You have become an amazing little girl. You're clever and resourceful, beautiful and sophisticated. You stop a room when you walk in. It's always been that way. When you were a baby, I couldn't go anywhere without complete strangers telling me how beautiful and porcelain doll like you were. The gerber baby people said. At Gymboree your early speech mesmerized the other parents. Your emotional sophistication has always astonished me. You understand complex thoughts and feelings that some adults struggle with. You make me so very proud to say I am your mama. Dear, sweet Alice...you are my sun and my moon and I thank the heavens every day you are in my life.

Love at First Sight

I have a new car. And not the "new to me" kind of new car. A BRAND NEW car! Wanna see? I know you do. I know you've been at home curiously wondering, twiddling your thumbs anticipating the moment I reveal to you my new car. Wait no more...here it is!

Here for your viewing pleasure is a 2012 Honda Pilot in Bali Blue Pearl. And best of all...it's not a mini-van! Nothing against those of you with mini-vans. Truth be known, part of me wanted one. I was gonna plaster a bumper sticker on it that read "I used to be cool."

I am in love with my new car. Complete love at first sight. I've never had this reaction with a car before. Sure, I loved the oscillating ac vents in my very first car, an old Mazda 626. A novel feature that seemed to amuse my friends when they would ride with me. And I love all the memories I created in my Hyundai Elantra wagon. All the times the car left Hatta and I stranded...all very fun stories. What can I say about my Honda Element? I brought my baby home from the hospital in that car. For that reason alone it holds a special place in my heart. But really, I did not love any of those cars. They were merely cars. They served a purpose. I got from A to B. End of story.

Oh, but my lovely Pilot. We are best friends. Soul mates right from the start. With all the organizational options, she's clearly a girl car. She's smart and sophisticated. And clever, damn she's clever...for a car. You should see the seats fold. Don't be fooled into thinking she's all brains, you should see her classy leather wrapped steering wheel, so sleek and sexy. My new car has it all! Brains and beauty!

I've even toyed with the idea of giving the powerful lady a name of her very own. I've never owned a car with a name. Lots of rednecks people do it, right? She came to me from Georgia, a Southern belle! Maybe Scarlett or Victoria or Anabel?

There is only one thing I do not enjoy about my new car. She's clean. Not like, "oh I took the car to the car wash and was able to remove 2 months of the 5 years of dirt and gunk that built up" clean, but insanely brand new car clean. It's scary. I had a talk with Alice.

"You know we have to try and keep the new car really clean. We can't just leave our trash in here. You can't leave your toys all over the place. We have to try really hard."

"Like I can't stick gummy bunnies to the wall, right?"

This is why I'm scared. Alice actually did that and didn't bother telling me for days, weeks. I'm not even sure how long the gummy fruit snack was stuck to the wall. We will do our best. I will try hard for my new best friend, the new love in my life. For her, I will do anything.

Co-Sleeping

The time has come. You may recall a few posts ago where I couldn't decide what to write about. Today, I feel it's appropriate to tell the other story.

For a moment I would like to address the Judgey McJudgerson's. Hi. If you don't mind, today's post isn't for you. If you regard yourself as a perfect parent, a super mom perhaps, may I kindly ask you to visit my older posts or another blogger entirely. Just for today. I'm sure tomorrow's post will be much more appropriate. I will welcome you back with open arms. See, today's topic is a bit personal. You understand, right?

I've been hesitant to write this post. As a parent, teaching your child to sleep is one of your first tasks. And many would say I've failed. At this very moment, Alice is fast asleep in my bed. This morning she woke up in my bed. The night before, my bed. The night before the night before, my bed. Sensing the pattern? I will stand sorta-kinda proudly and say, "My four year old sleeps in my bed."

Now that that's over, let me start at the beginning. As a newborn, Alice couldn't sleep alone. I tried night after night, nap after nap. It just didn't happen. She would either wake as soon as you laid her down or within a short period of time. She'd sleep fine in your arms or snuggled next to you. Anything else was not acceptable to her and, sadly, I was not a proponent of the cry it out method. I tried and tried, at Hatta's persistence, to transition her to the co-sleeper every night after she woke for a middle of the night feeding. Until that one night when I didn't. Snuggled next to me in bed, I latched on a hungry Alice and my exhausted postpartum eyes closed and remained closed. When I woke up several hours later, it was a total hallelujah moment. Finally, her and I both slept peacefully. Out of sheer desperation, I was hooked. Hatta, not so much. I did research, forwarded pages for him to read, tried my best to convince him if we co-slept smartly it was going to be okay. And it was.

Fast forward four years. Up until now, Alice hasn't slept in my bed consistently since the newborn phase. She transitioned to her crib for a period of time, then into the toddler bed. However, sleep has always been a struggle for Alice. I've googled, read books, and followed fellow mom's advice. Nothing seemed to work. Try as I might, I've rarely been able to convince Alice to spend an entire night in her bed. She'd fall asleep in her bed and when she woke at 3 or 4am 5 or 6am she'd toddle into my bed. This worked for Hatta and I. It seemed the lesser of the evils.

Until the damn bug entered the picture. About six weeks ago, during nap time, a fly entered Alice's room. It's not hard, there's a skylight in her room and she still doesn't have a door. Flys can come and go as they please. But, see, Alice has a bug phobia (that I promise I will post about soon. Any day. It's coming.) A harmless house fly or fruit fly is anything but simple to her. It's devastating and all, "Mama! Mama! A bug in my room! Eeeeee!! Hurry! MAMA! OH...EEE...MAAAAMA!" Ever since, she won't sleep in her room. The fly is long gone. Died of natural causes by now and, yet, she's still terrified to be alone at bedtime in her room. She tells everyone about the bug. I've given up. I willingly let her start out in my bed every night now.

Ah, but there's an end in sight. School starts soon. Have I mentioned preschool starts soon and I'm really, super, uber excited? Oh. Right. I've mentioned that. Anyway, school starts soon and guess who goes to preschool. Big girls, that's who! And guess what big girls do. Sleep in big girl beds! You see where I'm going with this? Yep. I've had the talk with Alice about school and big girls and sleeping in their own mother effing beds...maybe not in those exact words. Now, not only is Alice petrified of bugs, but she's dreading school, too. I foresee a few rough nights coming up in my future. Can't wait!






The courage for this post where I out myself for allowing my four year to sleep in my bed has been brought to you by The Honest Toddler. I realize I'm not alone in the big bed saga. Thank you.

Day One = Success

Good morning, fine friends. I really mean that. It is a good morning. Isn't that fantastic?!

It started out rough. I pulled a Hatta and realized 10 minutes into the drive I had left my phone at home. I contemplated taking one for the team and doing without for a few days. That could be fun, right? I hear how wonderful and freeing it is to disconnect and genuinely be present in your life for a change. Then it dawned on me, whoever said that was a moron. I needed my phone now more than ever. I quickly had us turned around and headed back home. Conveniently, Alice began complaining of a stomach ache. She wanted to poop. A 20 minute pit stop, complete with phrases like, "I can't keep pushing. The poop needs to catch its breath," and we were on our way again.

The drive turned out exactly how I expected. Alice was tired and refused to sleep. I was accused of fondling my leather wrapped steering wheel. We had to stop more times than I can bring myself to admit making the drive at least 30 minutes longer than necessary...not including my cellphone screw up. Eventually we arrived at the beach, mostly unscathed.

I shit you not, Hatta had a Summer Shandy in my hand within 3 minutes of walking in the front door. He's a standup guy like that. From that moment on, life was good. We quickly had beers in a cooler, swimsuits donned, and our bodies on the boat headed to the bay.

Something happens to me every time I'm on a boat. I'm reminded this is the one place I feel at home. I suppose it's the way some people feel when they eat a familiar food or visit a town from a past life, transported back to the comfort of your childhood. With my mother no longer alive, many of those old comforts trigger sad feelings for me. Except the boat. There's something about being on the water, the salt air blowing through my hair that makes me feel my childhood. Driving through the inlet, remembering all the times we would come to this spot to greet my father, a waterman, as he returned home after a week long trip. We would wave and jump up and down, he would sound the horn, knowing we would finally get to see each other again.

So, yeah, I was enjoying myself. We spent a few hours anchored at what turned out to be our very own private beach. I spent a few hours doing absolutely nothing and it was awesome. I drank. I sunbathed. I watched my daughter from a distance. I willingly played beer wench for Hatta as he fished. I would have breathtaking pictures to post for you...but I forgot my phone, again.

Hell Weekend Do-Over

I'm a glutton for punishment. It's the only logical explanation. You recall hell weekend, right? I've agreed to a do-over.

Shaking my head in disbelief.

Tomorrow morning we will load beach chairs and sand toys, suitcases and duffle bags into my new car (yup, I finally got the new car. Another post, another day.) I will drive us nearly three hours to attempt to have a relaxing few days.

I used to be a faithful Oprah viewer and I can still hear her, "When you know better, you do better." I'm not sure if this exactly falls under that quote, but I know better than to expect the next few days to be a breeze. In order to fully embrace realism, I give to you my expectations for the next few days.

• I expect Alice to force herself to stay awake on the ride to the beach. We will leave home at nap time and do everything under the sun to provide optimal sleeping conditions. She still will not sleep. Hatta and I will threaten severe punishment if she doesn't allow her body to fall asleep. No nap will be taken by Alice. She will start our "vacation" tired and irritable. Hatta and I will start our "vacation" stressed and on edge.
• Alice will not eat for two and a half days. Food will be prepared for her that isn't identical in color, texture, and consistency to the foods I prepare for her at home. Family members will beg Alice to eat, convincing her that she is running the show and calling the shots. I will spend double the days when we return home reminding Alice that she is in fact NOT in charge.
• Sleep will be lost. Alice will stay up too late and wake up too early. Unfortunately, the same will be true for Hatta and I. Sleep deprived Alice will become grumpier and bossier as the days pass. I will spend an equal number of days trying to help her catch up on sleep when we return home.

Oh friends, I think I'm having my very own Aha! moment right this second. Pertaining to this trip, I think I fully understand the quote. I know better than to expect this trip to go smoothly, so I won't. I will not stress about it. I know how it's going to shake down, why do I get upset when it goes exactly how I predicted?

So let me try again, now that I'm all enlightened and shit. My expectations for the next few days...

• I will enjoy the long drive in my new car. I will caress the new leather and learn the feel of all the buttons. I will provide Alice with hours of video to watch in hopes of not hearing a peep out of her.
• I will eat well. Screw everyone else!
• I will sunbath on the beach and allow everyone else to ensure Alice's safety.
• I will drink good beer and wine. No Coors light and Ménage a Trois Red for me.
• I will drink good beer and wine often.
• I will drink a lot of good beer and wine.

Wish me luck!

Time Out-Side

To be a good parent, my methods constantly have to evolve. As my darling daughter grows, I have to adapt to keep ahead of the madness. When I find myself shrieking obscenities, mostly in my head of course, it's time to reevaluate.

Last Friday was spent reevaluating. Alice was fresh off an I'm-sick-and-I-can-do-anything-I-want high. She walked around like she was queen of the castle and I was her lowly servant. Demanding tv at all times of the day. Eating when and what she felt like with no regard for the schedule. And the screaming. Ooh the screaming! Choice word being NO!! Not like a two year old who says it because it's novel and fun. Rather because I piss her off with my rules. How dare I try to control her and the things that go on in my house! Just who the hell do I think I am!

Traditional time outs weren't working. Removing privileges didn't bother her. I was forced to think outside the box on this one, outside the house maybe. In my head, I pondered the genius idea, my evil hands rubbing back and forth. I may have even cackled a time or two. My desperation had caused me to sink to a new low. I was going to use my knowledge of Alice's fear of bugs to my advantage. I don't think I've covered Alice's bug phobia yet, have I? She has an extremely grand, unwarranted, debilitating fear of bugs. It's so gargantuan it deserves it's own post. Soon, I promise. Anyway, I know that Alice hates being on the back porch by herself. You know, those man-eating flies. I've threatened before to stick her out back like I do with the dog when she's plucking my nerves. (I seem to compare my child to the dog a lot. Maybe I should reflect and get to the bottom of this.) The time had come to stop threatening and follow through. The next high pitch "NO!" she belted out and I was off. I took her by the arm, said nothing, put her on the back porch and shut the door. For a few glorious moments it was silent. When reality of her predicament settled in, the tears and the pleas to be let back inside started. She quickly waved the white flag, begging to be given a second chance, all the while looking back at the porch in fear of the imaginary bugs that were obviously coming to get her.

I had won. I wasn't proud of my below-the-belt tactics, but desperate times call for desperate measures. Eventually I hope she will want to be kind because it's the right thing to do, it's who we strive to be. Until that day comes, I'm okay with her choosing to be good to avoid consequences. And if I have to, I can ride the bug phobia for a very long time. Rest assured, dear Alice, juvenile detention center's are laden with insects.

Antibiotic Update

In case you were wondering what's going on at my house with Alice.

Now you know. It hasn't been pretty.

Think Again Before You Offer Judgment

I couldn't decide what I wanted to write about today. Two topics are in the forefront of my mind. One where I ask the Judgey McJudgerson's to kindly back away and come back another day, so I can tell my tale. Or the other one where I talk to them personally.

I'm opting for the latter. This post is for those who judge. Nay, since judging is human, this is for those who feel compelled to voice their judgment.

As my loyal readers know, Alice has recently challenged me as a parent concerning her pink medicine. We (Hatta and I) have received various forms of criticism from friends and family on our parenting skills, or lack there of, because we couldn't make our daughter take her medicine. I have a few things that I would like to get off my chest.

How dare you criticize my parenting! I'm a damn good mom and I know my daughter and what is best for her. I know her temperament. I have learned her strengths. I was the one that learned her needy cues when she was a newborn. I was the one that learned the exact floor board to stand and bounce on that gave just the right amount of give and squeak to calm her insistent crying. I learned to read her face to know just how much stranger anxiety she could handle before I had to intervene. It's been my job for over four years to keep my daughter happy and safe and now you're going to tell me how to do my job. I DON'T THINK SO!!

I don't care one iota how your father used to parent you. I don't give a flying fuck what you used to do when your kids were little! All I care about is my daughter and her physical and mental well being.

Do you think we didn't try to force Alice to take her medicine? What do you think we said, "Hey Alice, if it wouldn't be too much trouble do you think you could possibly, maybe take your medicine honey baby?" Of course when our attempts at reason didn't do the trick we tried what worked in the past when she was little. I'm not sure what amount of power and force you are okay using on a 35lb child, but my goal as a mom is not to teach Alice that I am bigger and stronger than her. I do not enjoy using my body against hers. So when after several attempts at forcing medicine down her throat didn't work, I stopped trying.

Funny thing, when I called the pediatrician, who by the way has been in countless medical publications and has won numerous awards, he never once suggested I hold Alice down and use force to get her to take her medicine. No. That wasn't what he said at all. Instead, he, the medical expert on children, suggested something else entirely. Something more civil.

So the next time you feel like offering your opinions on how I should raise my daughter, I suggest you just don't. Find something else to do with your time that you actually know something about. Cause, trust me, you don't have a clue about how best to parent my daughter.

We Eloped aka Taking the Easy Way Out

Here's a fun tidbit about me you probably didn't know...Hatta and I eloped to Vegas to get married. Not like yesterday or anything. This is old, but pertinent information for today's post.

Let's travel back in time, shall we. The year is 2006. Hatta proposed to me and I, for one wild reason or another, agreed to be his bride. I started an account on The Knot. We registered at Macy's and Crate and Barrel. I went wedding dress shopping. All normal things for a newly engaged couple to do. Then, the crazy took over. Not me, I wasn't like Bridezilla or anything. The family. Oh, the family. Everyone's two cents were constantly being thrown at us. But, let me be clear, when I say two cents that's completely metaphorical. No one was actually offering us money. The wedding would be paid for on our dime. Back to the unsolicited advice...Who we should invite. Who we shouldn't invite. Don't forget to invite these family members you have never even met. Where it should be. Where it shouldn't be. It must be in a church. You can't get married not in a church! Hatta and I, sensing the mounting tension surrounding our upcoming nuptials, contemplated a destination wedding. Jamaica was mentioned. Cue the family. You can't expect people to pay that much money to come to your wedding! If you get married out of the country *insert names here* won't be able to come. It's just selfish, that's what it is! Hatta, fearing for his raised catholic life, dismissed the destination wedding idea. Back on track for a traditional-ish wedding, we set a date and continued planning. I bought a book or two and started a binder. I contacted countless caterers, florist, musicians, wedding sites...the list goes on. Meanwhile, the growing strain of planning our wedding and trying to make everyone happy was taking a toll on us as a couple. Instead of sticking it out and problem solving our asses out of the situation, we took the easy was out.

That is what today's post is about.

We had a vacation scheduled to Vegas for a kick ass Halloween music festival. While we were there, we told no one in advance, and were married at The Little White Wedding Chapel by Reverend Keith Love. Not Elvis, much to Hatta's dismay. I loved our wedding. Truly. My mother had recently died and I couldn't imagine walking down the isle without my mom there. The way I saw it, for a brief moment all was right with the world. Hatta and I did it our way, putting the emphasis on our love not everyone else's happiness. And, my mother was the only guest there. Well, aside from the group of Italian tourist that flocked to watch as we said our vows outdoors.

Here lies the problem we never solved...family. Had we solved the family problem all those years ago we would know how to navigate them when they arise now. And boy do they arise. We took the easy way out, living in a dream world where no one else mattered but us. The honeymoon period, where that is concerned, is over. I assure you.

I honestly feel that we skipped a step in joining our two lives. Not because I needed the fairy tale wedding, I did not. As a little girl, you wouldn't have found me with a pillowcase on my head as a makeshift veil. I didn't fantasize about my wedding, having it all planned out well before I found a groom. The wedding didn't matter much to me. But successfully planning it, would have exposed Hatta and I to the complications family impose on a couple. In real life, you don't only marry your partner you also marry his (or her) entire family.

A fact I was made very aware of last weekend. The weekend forever known to me as hell weekend. I will not go into details, but suffice it to say that my in-laws greatly overstepped boundaries regarding the parenting of my daughter. The event as a whole made me so sad. Sad for me. Sad for Alice. But mostly sad for my husband. He is a good father and he deserves respect. Maybe, possibly, these most recent events will force Hatta and I to finally problem solve our asses out of the situation.

You Can Lead a Horse to Water

You know the old saying, "You can lead a horse to water, but you can't make it drink the got damn pink medicine." So that's not exactly how it goes, close enough. That's been my life since Friday. Words do not do justice to what my sick life with sick Alice and sick Hatta has been. Let me share the ailments as they pertain to the individual, starting with Hatta: strep, bronchitis, and conjunctivitis, myself: strep, mild swimmer's ear (wtf?) severe inner ear infection, and sinus infection, and lastly, Alice: strep, stubborn, strong willed, defiant, bullheaded, relentless, persistent...shall I continue?

The list of ailments required medication: eye drops, ear drops, antibiotics, and perscription strength cough syrup. I shudder at the thought of how much, as a family, we've dropped at CVS in the past week. Alice was prescribed one simple antibiotic, Cephalexin, the pink medicine. In her previous years, my daughter worried me with her strong love for drugs, pink medicine included. She always wanted more. She'd fake an illness just to take more purple medicine. I thought surely we had a drug addict in the making. Suffice it to say, I'm not longer concerned.

I've struggled to get Alice to take her antibiotic, wait...I think that's a bit of an understatement. It's vastly greater than an understatement. Over the course of the weekend, I learned even though she is small I can no longer control what she does or does not do. To my novice, childless readers who are questioning my words right now, who think surely you can be the parent and make her...to you I say, if only it was that simple. Yes, I can force her to lie still. Yes, I can force her mouth open. Yes, I can force the medicine into her mouth. That's the point in which I no longer have control. What happens once the pink gooeyness hits her tongue is up to her. No matter how much I attempt to close her mouth, she still has the power to spit it out. All over my hands, all down her hair, all over the floor.

Plan B, hide that shit! First attempt, smoothie. Success. But, I can't make her drink two smoothies every day for ten days. Maybe I can reason with her. That was where I went wrong. Hatta warned me; I chose not to listen. I ruined the secret. I told her she had taken the pink stuff when she drank her smoothie. Alice was ecstatic! She was overcome with joy and wanted her morning medicine in a smoothie for sure. Seriously. I'm not being sarcastic. There was high-fiving all around. The next morning the warm and fuzzy feeling of the previous night was replaced with an air of gloominess as Alice began what would become a three day fast. No food. Little water. She was boycotting life. The mention of medicine would send her running to bed. From her mouth I heard, "No. I don't want to. I don't like it. I wanna go to bed." That's it, on repeat for three days. I offered her a chocolate milkshake. Wouldn't take a sip. Vanilla ice cream with chocolate syrup and Reese's Pieces. Spoon didn't touch it. I found myself attempting to bribe her with the new Princess Tianna doll complete with carriage or a new Barbie is she just took the medicine. Nope. She was standing her ground, her coughy, achey, fevery, sick ground.

Plan C, finally the pediatrician has given the okay to switch antibiotic, since to date she has consumed merely one full dose and a couple partials. A new prescription has been called in, more money added to the shudder inducing total. The new drug is a capsule that when opened the tasteless powder can be sprinkled on anything. Thrilled to find out how tonight goes! Thrilled I tell ya!

Interlude

Ever have the kind of experience that makes your head spin in so many ways you can't distinguish which direction is up?

That's the best description I can give for the past few days. We attempted a nice four day beach vacation to my hometown. It was absolutely, hands down, without a doubt anything but nice. So much not niceness happened I can not delve into it in this post. My head is still swimming, literally...from what the doctor described as a rip-roaring inner ear infection. I need to take a day or two, try to process the illnesses that proved insurmountable, the doctor and pharmacy visits, the insistent refusal to consume medicines, the power struggle between grandparent and parent, the hurt feelings, and mostly, the disappointment. If I were to write now, I would blubber on in a whiney, sobbing fashion surely telling the wrong story in entirely the wrong way.

I will take a deep breath, sleep on it and...in the word's of my husband, "revisit it when cooler heads prevail." Trust me, with all the fever up in here we could certainly use cooler heads.

She's 4, Don't Trust Her

If you have an early riser in your house, then you know how I feel. Alice has always woke with the sun. Regardless. Period. I have googled. Read sleep books. You name it, we've done it. Now that she's 4, I hardly ever get up when she does. I'm not far behind, for I know the trouble my little 35lbs of curiosity can manage in a very short amount of time.

Reasons Alice Shouldn't Be Trusted

1. She enjoys using her purple handle scissors immensely. Victims to date include, but are not limited to, Rapunzel, Blinking Dora, Sydney Barbie, countless mermaids, and herself.
2. She can move her kitchen stool to the sink, reach the soap, and turn on the water. Washing dishes and dolls is a favored pastime. Flooding the counter and floor is merely a ramification.
3. Her size allows her to reach almost anything on any shelf. What she can not reach on her own, standing on a chair can fix.
4. Independence can cause her to overestimate her ability. Much to her, and my, dismay she can not lift, carry and pour a cup of oj from a full gallon.
5. For research purposes alone, she could flush anything down the toilet at any moment.
6. She feels that glue and tape are one in the same.
7. Her sweet tooth and early morning hunger pangs turn her into a savage beast. A factory sealed bag of chocolate chips is no match for her teeth.
8. First and foremost, Alice is an artist. Young artist are a danger to themselves and their surroundings.