SO APT. The video in question is here. The destroyer in question is currently in the playroom. Destroying it, of course.
My friend Sara O'Leary is putting together a book trailer for her gorgeous new book This Is Sadie. She need 30 second video clips of children between the ages of 3 and 7 pretending something. (Making, doing, and being!) Sylvie stars in an example video as a giant. Those of you with small children, please join in! Just catch your children pretending and send the short video along to ThisIsSadieBook@yahoo.com. Head on over to the This Is Sadie tumblr to see Sylvie's debut as a giant and for all the details.
A thousand years ago, I had an idea for a book devoted to photographs of beloved stuffed animals. Since I'm not a photographer, my idea went nowhere. (I tend to have a lot of good ideas for things I could do if I were a totally different person.)
Today I discovered that not one but two such books were published in 2013, and they both look beautiful: Much Loved and Dirty Wow Wow and Other Love Stories: A Tribute to the Threadbare Companions of Childhood. (Although, I think I prefer the title "Much Loved" to "Dirty Wow Wow," which puts me in mind of a rapper name. Or maybe rappers name themselves after their childhood comfort objects? Hmm, that might explain a lot...)
Take a gander:
More Much Loved photos.
Inspired by the four-year-old and her mom who make fancy dresses from paper, I promised Sylvie a couple of weeks ago that we would try it. She called me on it today so off we went to Walmart to buy some supplies. Although we bought some bristol board and a lot of tissue paper, this dress is actually made from just two plastic tablecloths that cost a buck each. (That and a whole lot of stick-on jewels that took a loooong time to put on. Unfortunately, in the photos you can barely see them.) I just tied the tablecloths on her. We might have been better able to mimic Elsa's neckline but I tied the knot in the white tablecloth too tight to then pull it down over her shoulders. Next time I'll do better.
The braid is made from three sheets of white tissue paper and attached to her own hair with an elastic. I wanted to use at least one yellow sheet to go for a more white-blonde look but Sylvie insisted Elsa's hair is WHITE. Although she's taken the dress off now, she's still got the tissue paper braid in.
I like the Elsa attitude here -- we got a lot of dramatic hand gestures, too, while we were taking the photos but most of those are slightly blurry.
We also picked up a copy of the newly released Frozen dvd, which we didn't even realize was out yet. I won't tell you how much we paid for it. Let's just say the dress was a lot cheaper, fancy jewels and all.
On the way home from the library, in the car. Soft music is playing on the radio; sunlight is glinting off the snow. I glance into the rear view mirror and am struck by my daughter’s profile. Her delicate features, placid beauty. She is all pink and white and petal soft, sitting in her car seat in the back as if on a throne, gazing out the window as the scenery drifts by, a quiet, thoughtful look on her face. I pull into the driveway, turn off the car. I look into the rear view mirror again, drinking in her perfection. She catches my eye and says matter-of-factly, “I really think I could kill. You know, if I was a super hero.”
Four-year-old Sylvie "reads" her current fave, Don't Let the Pigeon Drive the Bus! I don't know why the colours are so wonky -- something's wrong with my camera.
Sylvie and I have been reading a lot of fairy tales at bedtime lately -- we're particularly fond of James Marshall's versions of them. Last night we read Cinderella.
Sylvie sensibly pointed out to me that things could've been much simpler. While we were gazing at the picture of the prince trying the shoe on one of the stepsisters, she said, "That's why, when you meet someone, you should always tell them your name right away. And you should find out theirs."
I'm really looking forward to seeing Her, that creepy/sad/romantic movie starring Joaquin Phoenix in which he falls in love with his computer's operating system. However, I am not remotely concerned about the possibility of anyone falling in love with Siri, Apple's "intelligent personal assistant." Siri is the most irritating virtual creature in existence -- the only remotely human thing she actually seems to do is enjoy taunting our four-year-old, Sylvie. For some time now, Siri has refused to address Sylvie by name, which really should be a very simple matter. Here's the latest update, from about a week ago, in the ongoing Name Wars with Siri.
David: I can fix this! [addressing Siri] Siri, my name is Sylvie!
Siri: Your name is David.
David: I am Sylvie!
Siri: You told me your name was David.
Luke: Let me try. [addressing Siri] Siri, my name is Sylvie.
Siri: Your name is Sylvie.
All of Us: YAY YAY! Good job, Luke!
Sylvie [addressing Siri]: What is my name?
Siri: Your name is David but you asked me to call you Sylvie.
Sylvie storms out of the room wailing.
There is nothing like dressing up your poor, unresisting newborn in outrageous costumes for a good time. (And lately I've been reading too many novels set during WWII.)
Hmm, I wonder if I could get one of the cats to don this ensemble. No, it just wouldn't be the same.