I met J through Buffy the Vampire Slayer forums.
Our online friendship became an offline one when she visited Los Angeles my second or third year of law school.
She stayed at my apartment. She didn’t complain when I abandoned her to work as a “goth” extra on Crossing Jordan. She kept herself busy in ways I’ve long since forgotten, and then took pictures of me when I returned. I’d booked another day working as a goth on Alias and was determined to leave in my snazzy ‘do.
Her pictures were beautiful. They captured a me who’d never before existed in the external world.
My husband and I owed our five-year-old’s teacher a Christmas version of “Let It Go.”
Today we worked through our first draft. Afterward, I sang it back to Anthony since he was driving.
We burst out laughing at the end result. I asked, “Five-year-olds won’t really care, right?” He answered by improvising increasingly more nonsensical variations of our song. My shoulders shook as I listened while slightly tweaking our first draft.
Once finished writing, I asked him to improvise one more version for the camera: Read more…
Y’all know I love making my terrible stick figure drawings.
Only writing a post in my car could keep me from adding stick figures to certain posts. Like yesterday’s, “Bullshit/No bullshit.”
In fifteen minutes, I have illustrated that post with my … crappiest … drawings to date.
It’s common to come across big ol’ piles of B.S. in day to day life. I do this often.
I have typically responded with great care and sensibility. Read more…
There’s a conversation that happens more than any other around my house.
“Mommy, can I have a bubble maker/new game/that toy I just saw on TV?” my four-year-old son, Li’l D, will ask.
“How about now?” he’ll usually ask about two minutes later.
“Asked and answered. You’re not going to get a different answer today.” Sometimes this deters him. Other times, it takes a few more rounds for him to understand there’s no way “no” is going to become “yes.”
Li’l D recently became a fan of Ghostbusters. He became such a fan, actually, that he decided he needed his own costume. My husband set out to make one for each of them.
When my four-year-old son does well, he earns a star.
When he does not so well, he earns a strike. One strike negates one star.
Stars don’t always have to be traded for goods, but when they are, they have a value of a quarter apiece.
Li’l D has been saving stars for a Captain America shield, which he was able to buy Saturday. I was initially excited, but already sick of the thing after an hour of its loud clicking.
He ignored every request to stop being noisy with it en route to Long Beach Comic Expo on Sunday. I fought a powerful urge to chuck it out the car window.
And yet, when Li’l D met one Captain America at the Expo and showed off his own special shield, its clicks ceased to bother me even a little.
The magic of that meeting was worth so much more than 72 stars.