Here. Hold This.

I tell Piper every day that she is special. If you’re a fan of the Piper, you probably agree. She has many talents. Like making us laugh and not taking ourselves so seriously. Oh, and don’t forget her dance moves.

Apparently, I have skills, too.

“Mom, your special talent is holding things in your armpit. Whenever we go to the bathroom and I bring all my stuffed animals, you always hold them for me under your arm. You’ve got pit skills.”

Scapegoats

Piper’s had a rough week. Stitches. Falls. Fevers. Step Throat. It keeps getting worse. There was also an outbreak of lice in her classroom. On the bright side, Piper doesn’t have lice. So, there’s that, right? Considering she spent a good part of the week in and out of doctor’s offices and on and off our couch, catching lice was low on her list of possibilities. Poor Piper.

Luckily, she figured out what’s been causing her bad luck. She told me all about it this morning.

“Mom, I know why my fever was so high?”

“You do? Why?”

“I don’t want to say it out loud so I’m going to spell it for you.”

“Okay, Piper. I’m ready.”

Piper then used her finger to write J-O-E in the air. That happens to be her father’s name.

“Really? Your dad caused your fever?”

“No, Mom. I spelled Junie. You know, my favorite stuffed animal. Junie.” (Junie stars in most of Piper’s pictures. You can see her illustrated here.)

“Actually, you spelled J-O-E.”

“Whatever. The point is that I think Junie has strep throat. She keeps giving it to me.”

“Huh.”

“Or I’m getting all sweaty because of all those stuffed animals. I’m sleeping with like fifty of those things. I can barely breathe in there, you know.”

Taxidermists Need Not Apply

Piper has been debating the merits of her stuffed animals recently.  Her bed is currently inhabited by more than fifty fuzzy creatures.  She’s always claimed that sharing her bed with so many things was cozy, despite my protest.

She’s begun to worry, though, that stuffed animals are for babies.  Piper is a big girl.  We all know that.  4 and a half is huge.  That half matters.

“I’m thinking of giving them all up,” Piper said at breakfast. “I don’t need stuffed animals anymore.”

“Whenever you’re ready, P.  There’s no rush,” I answered.

Piper slowly turned toward me, her eyes trailing me up and down.

“Know what I really need, Mom?”

“What?”

“A stuffed you.  Then I’d be really cozy and warm. I could cuddle you whenever I need to and keep you with me all the time.”

Creepy Piper scares me just a little. I think we’ll invest in more cute stuffed animals in our near future.