Unlike her older sister Chloe (click here), Sophie gets the music. She’s made quite a bit of progress with booty shaking in the last few months.
Dancing to Creedence Clearwater Revival’s “Fortunate Son,” our funny bunny sets just the right tone. No disco for her!
I don’t have much time, because I have some work to do – ick. I really do need to start playing the lottery.
Aquawoman in the photo. You all know I’m going to harp on Chloe’s prowess in the water until I’m blue in the face. Pride is a sin, isn’t it? That’s ok – I’m a heathen and I don’t believe in that stuff anyway.
This is the future Natalie Coughlin. I spoke to the swim coach at our local YMCA, and while I’m not interested in Chloe joining a swim team where she has to practice a million days a week, I am interested in some of the more advanced coaching-type programs they offer. She’ll have to try out in September, and we’ll take it from there. As long as Chloe continues to enjoy swimming, I’m not going to begrudge her the opportunity to advance. If she’s happy, I’m happy.
Right now, Chloe isn’t too happy because she’s trying to learn a new song for the piano (or in our case, the little keyboard). She’s getting increasingly frustrated. No surprise there – she takes after her mother. She’s getting so frustrated, however, that I think she might actually turn purple and explode. Which wouldn’t be good, because then our hopes for a gold medal or two in 2020 would explode along with her.
In other cases, it involves Chloe’s doing something to displease Sophie, such as taunting her by stealing one of her toys, or sticking her tongue out at her – typical sibling stuff.
In yet other cases, it involves Sophie getting a little boo-boo.
Sophie takes the drama to a whole new level, however. Because before she makes a face like the one in the photo, she’ll give one of us a sidelong glance to gauge if we’re going to react to her in what she deems an appropriate manner.
For example, if she stubs her toe, she’ll look at her Papa before she starts shedding the crocodile tears. If he says, “Ma pauvre Sophie, viens voir ton Papa” (“My poor Sophie, come to your Daddy”), she’ll immediately start in with the fake crying and tragic facial contortions. That crap doesn’t pass muster with me, of course. Which is why we have two daddy’s girls on our hands.
I’m happy to give her all the hugs and kisses she wants, in sickness and in health. But cut me a break Sophie – save the drama for the real stuff – remember that little story about crying wolf?
Here I was bragging about Chloe’s swimming prowess in yesterday’s blog entry, but all the bragging in the world doesn’t hold a candle to beholding it with your own eyes. The proof is in the pudding. Enjoy the video – taken this weekend at the pool club. She really is a little fish. Local swim club today, Olympics in 2020.
Yes, Lynyrd Skynyrd would be cringing at Chloe’s “dance” routine here. Not only is she completely missing the beat, but she’s attempting disco to the sounds of “Sweet Home Alabama!” Earth to Chloe, earth to Chloe! Your decades are all mixed up! For shame!
Now that all of my loyal readers have a had laugh at my darling Chloe’s expense, I do have some good news. You see, Chloe is not without talent. And during these Olympic games, I am starting to enjoy visions of Chloe someday joining the ranks of Michael Phelps and Dara Torres. Yes, she’s a swimmer.
She’s apparently a damn good swimmer, too. It’s official – Chloe has evolved from a “Minnow” to a “Fish.” Yes – it’s the second to last level in the YMCA swimming program. And I am very proud – she’s not even eight years old! She’s very excited about her progress, of course, and wants to announce it to the world.
My mind is reeling with the possibilities. Maybe she’ll be discovered! Maybe she’ll get endorsements! Maybe she’ll win a gold medal someday! Go, Chloe, go!
When she woke up this morning, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, the very first thing she said was, “Papa, you ate ice cream. Mommy ate ice cream. You need to eat fruit now.” Obviously, she couldn’t get the ice cream we enjoyed – the previous night, mind you – out of her head.
“Chloe hit me!” That’s usually true.
“Chloe farted!” That wasn’t true this particular time. Sophie was actually the culprit.
“Chloe burped!” That’s sometimes true.
“Chloe, don’t say those words! ” “That’s not nice, Chloe!” These are frequent admonishments.
When she’s with me in my red putt-putt car, “Mommy, you driving too fast. Slow down!”
The other day, Chloe and a friend were having a little argument. “Stop fighting!” she yelled.
The good news is that it looks like she’s learning right from wrong…the bad news is she’s driving all of us crazy!
(2) Q: What steps would you take if a bull chased you?
A: Big ones.
(3) Q: Why do giraffes have long necks?
A: Because their feet stink!
(4) Q: Why did they cross a homing pigeon with a parrot?
A: So if it got lost it could ask for directions.
(5) Q: Why do gorillas have big nostrils?
A: Because they have big fingers.
(6) Q: When is it bad luck to see a black cat?
A: When you’re a mouse.
(7) Q: Ten cats were on a boat, one jumped off, how many were left?
A: None, they were all copycats.
I am still amazed by the completely outsized, disproportionate reactions of my daughters to disappointment.
Take Chloe this evening. She wanted one of her yogurts (Stonyfield Farm French Vanilla, to be exact) but there were none left. She had eaten the last one yesterday. Thirty minutes and many loud groans and tears (!!!), later, she agreed to try one of my yogurts – a raspberry variety.
Chloe said she “kind of” liked it – but she was still in tears and her obstinancy got the better of her. Even though she obviously thought my yogurt wasn’t as bad as she thought it would be, she couldn’t bring herself to swallow her pride and eat it. So she cried some more. Until she settled on a different snack and an orange before bed.
I told her that I don’t keep a running inventory of the refrigerator contents and that it’s up to her to let us know when we’re out of something she likes to eat. She needs to take on some responsibility for crying out loud. I’m flattered that she thinks her parents are all-knowing, but we must disabuse her of that extremely dangerous notion ASAP. Before we run out of her yogurts again.
I’d like to thank my lovely and obliging daughter, Chloe, for providing me with content for my blog entry this evening. It’s good to have someone who can fill in for me every once in a while.
(1) Q: Why do four-legged animals dance badly?
A: Because they have two left feet.
(2) Q: What time is it when an elephant sits on your fence?
A: It’s time to get a new fence!
(3) Q: What do you get when you cross a mountain lion and a parrot?
A: I don’t know, but you better listen when it talks!
(4) Q: What did the duck say when she finished shopping?
A: Just put it on my bill.
(5) Q: What do you call an elephant in a telephone box?
A: Stuck.
(6) Q: What did the snail say when he hitched a ride on the turtle’s back?
A: Weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!
(7) Q: What’s a slug?
A: A snail with a housing problem.
The four of us had a grand old time. My friend claimed that she was horrible at bowling when she was a kid. Of course, she had the high today – for both games. Not noteworthy high, but high enough to make me skeptical that she was as bad as she led me to believe (i.e, as bad as Obama).
The kids did great – and really enjoyed themselves. Chloe even managed a few spares. I managed a few strikes. But I never broke 100. I’m not coordinated enough and I certainly don’t have the necessary form.
Luckily we had the benefit of the bumpers – which we requested for the kids’ sake. If I’m being honest, they also served the two of us adults quite well – without them, I think my score would have been closer to 40. I even slipped on the lane early on in our game – almost onto to my ass (I managed to salvage my humiliation a little bit by falling onto one knee instead). I felt extremely silly – but my antics gave my companions a good laugh.
