This morning at breakfast, Sissy, Daddy, and I told stories of baby Piper.
We told her how she liked to sit in a doll stroller and make us push her in endless loops around our house in Illinois. If we stopped, she’d simply point her finger in the direction she wanted to go and grunt. We obeyed.
We told that she did the Ting-A-Ling Silly Circus clown dance 4 million times. One of our hands was the buzzer she had to hit to do her silly dance again.
We told her that she didn’t talk much because the three of us were there to anticipate her every need. Why speak with this kind of service?
“We’re your biggest fans, Piper. The three of us adore you,” I said.
“Make that four,” Piper said, “I am a big fan of mine, too”
Yesterday was Piper’s class picture. You know the one where the whole kindergarten smooshes together and smiles so that 10 years later you can look back and wonder what happened to the kid who ate paste. We forgot it was picture day. You’re supposed to dress up for picture day. You’re supposed to look presentable.
We’ve had a series of weather delays and early releases and general schedule rescheduling that’s left us in a permanent state of flux. I’m pretty sure Piper’s teeth were brushed. I doubt her hair was. She was wearing at least seven pieces of rainbow jewelry. Maybe two tutus. I remind her daily to wear underwear. Clean underwear. My standards are that high.
“Mom! We forgot picture day!” Piper told me on our walk home.
I shrugged. What could I do now? “Sorry, honey.”
“Thank goodness I look THIS good every day!” Piper said, twirling in her paste eating loveliness and smiling. I checked for underwear. Whew.
Piper is busy preparing for her first Power Point presentation. You read that right. In kindergarten. This week she’ll stand before her class and an assembly of parents and present her findings on the origin of pasta fagioli, or as we call it, Piper Soup (recipe included). She did the research and created the presentation at school, but we’ve been practicing her five slides at home. It may send the cute factors into the stratosphere.
“Will you be there for the presentation, Mom?” Piper asked following one of her many practice runs.
“Of course. I wouldn’t miss it,” I said.
“Can Sissy come too?”
“Sure. I’ll email her teacher to make sure it’s okay.”
“What about Sissy’s friends? Can they come too?”
“Probably not, but I’ll certainly ask,” I promised.
Piper looked down at the printed copy of her slides. She sighed. “We’re going to need more chairs in the audience. You know, for my fan club.”
Piper’s been her own little cheering squad lately. The girl’s got self esteem of steel. “And the crowd goes wild!” has become her catch phrase. I’m not sure where she picked it up but it seems here to stay. Wherever Piper goes and whatever task she accomplishes, that crowd is right there waiting.
This afternoon Piper buckled herself into her booster seat. All by herself. Then she shouted “And the crowd goes wild!” and gave herself a high five.
I heard a “And the crowd goes wild!” from the bathroom. I didn’t investigate.
She clears her plate from the kitchen table “And the crowd goes wild!” I mean, I’m happy. Don’t get me wrong. Piper’s certainly old enough for chores but this crowd seems pretty easy to please to me.
P.S. We’re meeting Piper’s new kindergarten teacher today! “And the crowd goes wild!”