Saturday, October 18, 2008
What he hadn’t counted on was Lilah not inheriting the matching gene. If you know Ryan, you know that he’s got it (straight from his mom, of course). Subtle shades of brown in a blue-patterened tie means you wear a brown jacket and blue shirt and your students are a little taken aback by your snazzy wardrobe.
Lilah, on the other hand, seems to have inherited a matching gene directly from her grandmother Mirene, who was a huge fan of cabbage roses and matching her shoes to her bag to her lipstick. Add to this tendency a literal-minded understanding of pattern (“But Daddy, this shirt has flowers and the pants have flowers so they match!”) and a LARGE dose of sheer bloody-minded stubbornness on both parts and you have some interesting mornings.
“No, Lilah. You cannot wear that polka dot shirt with the flowered skirt and striped tights. People will laugh at you.”
“But why? They are all new things that I got. I want to wear them together.”
When Ryan is in charge, he wins. Let it be noted, however, that sometimes Lilah changes clothes in the middle of the day when he’s not around (witness this lovely ensemble.)
As for Super-Boy over here beside her, there's just no explanation. I mean, he's Super-Boy! Surely you can see his awesome powers of judo and skinny-legged kicking.
The sad part of this trip was that Ryan’s grandmother had a stroke just before we left, then died while the whole family was up in Canada, so everyone was a little subdued and Ryan’s dad didn’t make it up at all until the middle of the week. I have high hopes that the hug Lilah gave him—and the accompanying shriek of “PAAAAAPPPY!!!!!!”—did something to raise his spirits. In any case, once he was there we didn’t give him much down-time. And we were ALL made approximately 50 million times happier by the presence of our adopted family member, Erin, who came, cooked tacos, pretty much carried Lilah everywhere, and kicked Ryan’s ass in Yahtzee most nights. (Or so she says. Ryan may have a different story. I was usually immersed in a trashy novel of the sort that I rarely allow myself during the rest of the year.)
Help, help! I’m trapped, this is actually your fish tank, but it doesn’t have any fish in it . . . actually, this is a clam but it’s my pet clam, actually, so he’s hugging me. Huuuuug. Here he is, want to feel him, isn’t he so soft? He’s soft because he has super powers, he’s a superhero pet clam, his name is . . . Marky. Watch how fast he can run . . . zzzhoop . . . I’m actually Supergirl, Lady. Lady? Lady, I’m actually Supergirl. Will you watch my clam—what’s his name again?—oh, Marky, will you watch him every day at nine o’clock and then I’ll be back in one minute . . . zzzhoop . . . at 10 o’clock and pick him up. Here he is, Lady. Okay, bye. Did you know, I’ve been kind of sick, so I’m very tired, because I’ve been sick . . . ding dong, somebody’s at the door of your house lady, it’s Superman on his way to fix my house, I actually live in a tree house because I like to feel the wind on my back, especially I live there when its raining. I can build you a tree house, here, zzzhoop, there, see, Lady? Lady, come look, see the tree house I built for you. Now I can live with you! But Superman is on his was to fix my house. He’s not a superhero anymore. He drives a truck and builds houses. He got bored being a superhero. Would you like to come in my submarine and see Mermaid City?