Front row seat

Heard lots of activity and then music coming from Lily's room. This is what I saw when I snuck in. A captive audience if I ever saw one. 

Apparently, paparazzi were not welcome. 

A bit later, Amalia called me to the back room telling me she'd spelled her name. Looks more like will.i.am to me, but Jenga blocks are a tricky medium. 

Other recent conversations: 

From yesterday, heard when Lily and Amalia were in the living room: 

A: Jump, Lily! I'll catch you! (I didn't look.)

From today, as Lily was getting ready to go to her friend's birthday party: 

A: Can I go to Zahra's party, too? 

L: No.

Me: Sweetie, you weren't invited. Only Lily was. 

A: Well, put me on the list. Then I can go! (such a problem-solver, she)

Innocence

Amalia, on our way from her daycare to Lily's school: 

"Mommy, when I'm older, will you show me where to go?"

Good thing she didn't say "tell." 

Raising well-rounded children

Yesterday, we took the girls to see Disney on Ice. Right beforehand, however, I decided to inoculate them a bit with a visit to the National Portrait Gallery. 

Good ol' GW on Presidents' Day

A contemplative Abe

Next stop: the Folk Art exhibit and bottle cap sculptures. 

And then across the street to the Verizon Center. 

You get the gist. (Note: Amalia was very concerned about all of the princesses' legs being cold--pointing out that the princes got to wear pants.)

I must admit, as much as I try to guard against the whole Disney marketing and princess stereotyping thing, I did experience a fair amount of nostalgia during the Small World and Main Street Electrical Parade segments of the show. All in all, the girls had a good time and we escaped without too much collateral damage to our wallets. 

Cyanotic love

My Valentine's Day card from Lily: 

Not in Kansas anymore

I was tempted to live-tweet Amalia's color commentary while watching the Wizard of Oz last night. Here are a few of her gems:

"Ooh, a storm is coming! I think it's a volcano!"

"I think she's over the rainbow." (when Dorothy arrives in Munchkinland)

"She's very pinkish." (referring to Glinda the Good Witch)

What do you really think?

I took this picture at Amalia's daycare this morning:

Somehow the textile exercise turned into a therapy session. Then again, I guess we could also psychoanalyze Jolee's response.

One girl's trash...

One of my favorite things about our neighborhood is our hyperlocal list serv. Although it can get a little annoying at times--like now, with the airing of many vociferous opinions about the recently revised cap on the number of local liquor licenses and arguing about the placement of our new bike-sharing station--it also is a great way to trade goods amongst neighbors. Like two bags of hand-me-down dress-up items, which Lily and I picked up on Saturday morning. 

I tried to get a cute picture of the girls, but they were too busy posing and dancing to stand still. 

Sally gets a desk

One of Lily's favorite stuffed animals of all time is Sally the puppy dog. Today apparently, she got a job at the mall and needed a desk to go with it. (Looks about the size of some of the cubicles I've been in.)

Desk supplies: paper, pencil, ruler. 

Postal box turned desk chair. (I guess she'll work up to the Aeron.)

Lily said that Sally is lying on her desk, gazing at the stars. 

Sally has a visitor at the office. 

Julia's child

Amalia loves cooking--from watching America's Test Kitchen on PBS to helping make today's Super Bowl snacks. She's always ready to pull her stool up to the counter and get her hands dirty. 

 First up today was guacamole. 

She had no interest in eating it, but was happy to scoop out all of the avocados. 

Next up was "heart healthy" buffalo chicken wings. She didn't plan on eating these either. We also made cookies, dipping some in melted chocolate--but she was napping for that part. (Lily was in the kitchen and helped Andy by telling him how she wanted the designs--in true supervisor fashion.)

On a related note, Amalia informed me yesterday that the words on our measuring spoons were written by "the author."