No more masks! And more from BB’s version of events

Bye bye masks! It would feel good to burn them all, but BB still needs them for the bus and it’s not my style to get rid of something I might need in the future. Just ask my over-stuffed house.

I’m relieved for BB. It’s tough going wandering around with a mask and fogged up glasses. Last year, a week after her ophthalmologist appointment, her pre-k teacher mentions,

“I’m worried she’s having a hard time seeing. How are her glasses?”

Great as far as I know. I ask BB,

“Are you having a hard time seeing?”

“My glasses were fogged up.”

Now she wipes them, but a year ago I think she may have just sat there and waited it out.

And now there is no daily feedback from her teacher. I’m left to sift through BB’s version of events in an often futile effort to discover the truth.

The other night BB was telling a very long winded, detailed version, of that day’s recess. It bordered on fantastical. She finished with,

“Then So-and-so grabbed snowflakes from the air, made a snowball and was about to throw it at So-and-so, but I stepped in between and blocked it.”

“I thought you had indoor recess today.”

“Oh yeah, we did. This was back in the fall.”

The next morning she prances to breakfast in a tutu. She tells me,

“Mr. L. told us to wear tutus today.”

“Your gym teacher told everyone to wear a tutu?”

“Don’t tell him I said that.”

And BB may be introverted, but it’s good to know she feels very comfortable giving her teacher a piece of her mind.

At the beginning of the year her teacher called on her to answer a question, to which BB replied,

“Oh no Mrs. C. I wasn’t raising my hand.”

Then last week BB came home and told me,

“Mrs. C. told me to practice my lower case letters.”

“Ok.”

“I told her I don’t have time for that.”

I told Mrs. C. it turns out we do have time for that.

Then in passing BB mentions that math is hard. A little alarm bell goes off in my head. I ask,

“What’s hard about it?”

“I lose my breath saying all those numbers.”

Good to know.

And this was from awhile ago, but it may be one of my all-time favorites. BB and her class were learning the song “My Country, ‘Tis of Thee.” BB informs me,

“It’s in old English and it always makes me want cupcakes.”

“Cupcakes?!?”

“Yeah you know… My country, ’tis of thee,
Sweet land of liberty,
Of thee ICING!”

Now I want a cupcake too.

Glasses? No problem. Haircut? NO THANK YOU

So after all that, Baby Bop’s glasses are a non-issue. She wears them 90% of the time. What I didn’t anticipate is how often I’d have to wash them. When she’s tired, instead of rubbing her eyes, she rubs her glasses. She loves a big ol’ slobber from Booker and he sees no reason to avoid her glasses.

Food on her fingers? Rub it on the glasses. Singing “Head, shoulders, knees and toes?” Smear fingers all over glasses. Demand that Mommy and Dadda wear their glasses? Inspect her glasses. And I knew I was cleaning them constantly when on the second day of wearing them, Baby Bop was “washing” them in her sink.

Now the best part is that Captain doesn’t want to wear his $8 fashion pair, but Baby Bop isn’t going to stand for that. She sees him without them and she declares,

“Dadda! Gasses!” (The “L”  and in Baby Bop’s version is silent.)

And really how can he argue with that?

I’m tired of wearing mine too. Baby Bop seems to be the only one who’s NOT struggling with glasses. Her and Cookie Monster.

So really all my anticipation about how Baby Bop was going to manage, should’ve been directed toward how Captain and I are going to manage. And it’s a new aesthetic to get used to too. The full head strap that keeps her glasses on her head is very necessary, but not great for her baby mullet.

Her hair could use a trim from someone besides me, despite how much I’ve tried to learn from YouTube.

Captain watches a YouTube video on changing our dryer vent from the back to the side and he does it in the tiny bathroom, in a few hours, on the first try.

I watch a YouTube video on trimming bangs, and after 5 or 6 separate attempts over the past year, I’ve yet to be happy with the outcome. It’s always a case of,

Oops, a little uneven, I’ll take some more from this side.

Baby Bop moves.

Gah! I need more from the other side.

She moves again.

I give up. I have to stop or else there won’t be any bangs left. A couple months go by and I get to try again. We’re at the point of me trying again or paying $20 for the pleasure of torturing her at a salon and hoping I can immobilize her long enough for them to do it.

I’m leaning toward the torture.

But yay for seeing! And Baby Bop likes what she sees. The first time she looked in the mirror with her glasses she stared at herself for a long time and kept turning from side to side. Then she gave a big smile and said,

“Gasses!”

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Potty or extra large cup holder? Who’s to say?

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