Name Your Own Adventure

Posted on October 24, 2012 by melissa.scholes.young

We thought long and hard before we named Piper Piper. I’ve written about the pitfalls of “Baby Naming 101” for Mothering. I’ve professed our scientific baby naming process in “What in a Name? Guts.” I’m no baby naming rookie. So I thought we’d gotten it right. She’s a Piper, yes? Of course she is.

From the backseat today, Piper told us she’d made a big decision.

“I don’t want to be Piper anymore,” she said.

“What? Like you don’t want to be you?” Sissy asked.

“No, I’ll still be me. I just don’t want to be Piper. I’m changing my name.”

“Why?” Daddy asked. We’d just swung through the train station and picked him up 13 seconds earlier. Parenting makes you hit the ground running.

“I want a normal name.” My heart sank. This was my biggest fear in naming the Piper Piper. What if she hated it? What if she blames us later for giving her the coolest name on the planet because she doesn’t appreciate its coolness?

“I want to be Rebecca,” Piper said.

“That is a nice name,” I agreed.

“Nope. You’re a Piper,” Sissy insisted.

“Or Rosie.”

“Okay,” Daddy said, “but you’ll probably need to decide.”

“Yeah,” Piper said, “but it’s kind of a big decision.”

I know, Piper. Believe me, I know.

Top Ten Reasons Piper Should Moderate a Presidential Debate

Posted on October 23, 2012 by melissa.scholes.young

You have to admit that those presidential debates can be a bit dry. But what if Piper moderated them? That would be worth watching. Here’s why:

10. Everyone would wear tutus.

9. When a response doesn’t make sense, the candidate would have to open fake potato chip cans and release the screaming snake while Piper fact checked them.

8. She’d enforce the rules: No ‘rupting each other. Wait your turn.

7. Mid debate recess break. Wouldn’t everyone be nicer after a few trips down the slide?

6. The water would be in dribble glasses. Parched throat? Help yourself. Snicker. Snicker.

5. Candidates would have to hold hands while debating.

4. Augie gets to ask all the questions from the audience.

3. Bowls of goldfish for snacking. Yum.

2. Time? What time? What’s that?

1. Candidate who farts first, wins.

Wishin’ and Hopin’

Posted on October 22, 2012 by melissa.scholes.young

At breakfast this morning Piper announced that she’d be honeymooning in California. We’re used to declarations like this daily. We take them seriously and always play along. You might wonder where this one came from; we know Piper well enough not to ask. Why ask why? is our motto.

“Hmm,” I said, sipping coffee, “how will you get there?”

“By carriage.”

“Like horse drawn carriage?” I asked. “That will take awhile.”

“Then I’ll go to Paris,” Piper said.

“You can’t go to Paris by horse drawn carriage, P,” Sissy informed her. “Unless, of course, your horses can swim.” I think she snorted then at her own joke.

“You could ride your horse drawn carriage onto a ship and take that to Paris,” Daddy offered. He never wants to crush Piper’s dreams.

“Can I take a ship to California?” P asked.

We all looked at each other. “Yes,” I nodded, “you can, I suppose. It will take a long time because you’ll have to go through the Panama Canal or the Northwest Passage. Or you can take a boat and carry it across the Rockies.”

“Who are you going to marry, anyway?” Sissy asked.

Piper shrugged. “I haven’t worked out that detail yet.”

A Contrarian Doesn’t Smell the Rose Garden

Posted on October 21, 2012 by melissa.scholes.young

Yesterday Piper went to the White House. Again. She hated it just as much.

Her first visit was last year during the holidays. She almost got us kicked out and I blogged about it in “Is Obama on the Naughty List?” and “Ikea vs. The White House.”

Remember she is the contrarian. Read “A Contrarian Smells the Roses” for proof.

Still, we went back for the White House Garden Tour. My dear friend Jen scored us tickets. Piper brought her favorite stuffed animals along. At least a contrarian knows how to occupy themselves.

Then Piper mapped out her route. She was really just looking for Bo, the Obama’s dog.

Jen tried to help with the map reading. Piper continued to look for Bo.

She didn’t find Bo, but she did find the playground on the White House lawn. She wasn’t allowed to play on it, though. Here’s what she thought of that:

We also found the Bee Hive and the White House Kitchen Garden. Both looked yummy.

Piper wasn’t impressed with either. “Yuck,” she said. “I don’t like eggplant.”

So we had to rely on the one thing that always makes the contrarian smile: Sissy.

Echo Echo Echo

Posted on October 20, 2012 by melissa.scholes.young

We bought Piper a microphone yesterday. It is the final accessory that she desperately needs to complete her Paty Kerry costume for Halloween. Really what’s a rock star without amplification? We gave Piper a lot choices in her microphone selection. She fell for Magic Mic:

Translucent Magic Mic (Colors May Vary)

Piper’s has a black handle with a shiny silver microphone. It’s for the glamorous fake rockstar variety. It’s kid-powered; no batteries required. And when you sing into Magic Mic-or spit all over it with huffy breaths-as Piper does, your voice sounds like an echo. It’s completely addictive. I’m warning you. If Piper hadn’t already stamped this one owned with her germs, I’d be stealing it after she goes to bed and putting on my own concert. Trust me. You don’t share Magic Mic.

Piper is now speaking to us only through Magic Mic. Every response requires amplification. Even dinner conversations.

“Piper, do you want peppers or carrots?”

“CARRRROTTTSSS!” she echoed.

“Use your napkin. It’s in your lap.”

“I WIIIILLLL!”

“Did you clear your plate?”

“I’MMMM GOOOING TOOOOOO!”

Magic Mic adds an element of drama to every response. And we needed a lot more drama around here.

Being a Mom is Hard

Posted on October 19, 2012 by melissa.scholes.young

We have a family tradition on birthdays that we tell you our favorite thing about you and give you a dollar. The favorite thing thing is a blast. The dollar is just a bonus.

Just for fun, here’s Piper getting her favorite things present in “Happy Fake Birthday to You.”

And here’s Piper telling me her favorite thing in “Happy Birthday to Me.”

Yesterday was Grandma’s birthday so Piper and Sissy called her to share the tradition. Sissy said her favorite thing was that Grandma was so crafty. Grandma taught Sissy to sew and needlepoint and other domestic arts that I have zero skill in. Then Piper grabbed the phone:

My favorite thing about you is that you are my mom’s mom. Being a mom is hard. I know. You’re a good mom and you were nice to my mom. That’s my favorite thing, Grandma.

And here’s my favorite picture of Grandma and Piper:

It’s Fall. Be Careful.

Posted on October 18, 2012 by melissa.scholes.young

“It’s fall, Mommy. I drew a tree. Those are leaves. See how they’re falling?”

“It’s fall. You should be careful. ‘Cuz you might, you know, fall.”

Hot Noodle Soup With a Side of Snap

Posted on October 17, 2012 by melissa.scholes.young

When Piper woke up this morning with a raging fever and a sore throat, I wanted to cry. But I can’t. I’m the mom. So I gave her a dose of ibuprofen, stripped off her sweat soaked pajamas, and brought her to our bed. We cuddled and talked about how stinky it is to feel sick. “I know what would make me feel better,” Piper said.

“Anything, baby. What?” I asked.

“Hot noodle soup.”

“But you ate all the noodle soup yesterday,” I reminded her. “We’re all out.”

Tears welled in Piper’s eyes. Okay. Okay. I can make a fresh batch. From scratch. Before 6 a.m. Fine. I diced and simmered the broth. I boiled the noodles. I buttered a fresh slice of bread. Then I fed it to Piper with a spoon. She said her throat felt better. She said it would feel even better if she could watch Word Girl on the couch. I’m a sucker, I know.

A few hours later, after the fever broke and some of Piper’s energy returned, after the negative strep throat test and doctor’s visit, I brought her another bowl of hot noodle soup. Piper peered into the bowl at her beloved carrots and celery floating in a fragrant bath of broth and noodles and said, “Mom, I don’t do leftovers.”

Lunchbox Love

Posted on October 16, 2012 by melissa.scholes.young

Piper tucked this note into her Sissy’s lunchbox yesterday.

Translation: Piper loves Isabelle.

And she does.

Dear Paty Kerry

Posted on October 15, 2012 by melissa.scholes.young

Dear Paty Kerry,

My daughter, Piper, wants to be you. She’s five-years-old and is one of your biggest fans. In fact, for Halloween, Piper wants to wear a costume that she’s designed to be Paty Kerry.

It’s not just your blue hair that she adores. She understands your love of all things glitter. She feels that you are a kindred spirit. Piper likes to dress in costumes every day, just like you. She loves singing and dancing, just like you. And she believes in magical places, like the kind of that you invent on stage. When Piper sings “Firework,” she channels your energy and believes she really can go Boom, Boom, Boom. In fact, Piper’s birthday is just a few days past July 4th and she thinks that song was written just for its occasion.

I do steer Piper away, though, from some of your more mature lyrics. But mostly I just manage to keep them contained to our home. She’s in kindergarten after all and far from her first teenage dream, if you know what I mean. She hasn’t started kissing anyone yet, let alone girls and liking it. I’d love more G rated material from you by the way. It would really make my job easier. Piper doesn’t get most of what your lyrics say, but it’s a bit disarming to see her belt out Baby, let’s go all the way tonight on her walk to school. Fortunately, Piper thinks in your skin tight jeans is in your skim milk jeans, which is much more nutritious and probably explains why you can get into those jeans anyway.