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Sunday, February 02, 2025

Wild Robot

Rachel and I left the house...when it was still dark...to spend the day on campus...on a Saturday...because I had a meeting for the Georgia Children's Book Award. It was a long day!

When I got home, Zoë happily chirped that the books she'd ordered had arrived and she'd already finished reading Wild Robot and that Daddy said we could have a movie night to watch it tonight even though no one else had read the book yet. 

Phoebe and Daddy had spent the day in the kitchen making pretzels (each one got a kiss from Phoebe, but don't worry because after the kiss they were boiled and then baked) and some, like, babka or something (almost cinnamon rolls, but not quite), so the house smelled delicious, and anything sounded good for dinner after our Friday evening YOYO fail. 

I came home from the meeting carting a wagon full of books—library books that I'd checked out and kept away from the kids so I knew I'd have them all for our meeting, and a couple extra books from our meeting that I was able to take home. And then Andrew was nice enough to run to the library for me to return some books that were due soon and to pick up my holds that were expiring soon, while I took the kids out for a walk to stretch our legs and our eyes, even though all they wanted to do was sit around and read. 

They're like little book vultures.

Alex read to Phoebe:

While Zoë read on the other side of the room:

And Benjamin lounged on the couch with a book:


After we tore the children away from their books and made them do some getting-ready-for-dinner chores, we made pretzel sandwiches and then settled in for Wild Robot, which was a tear-jerker...and also hilarious. 

In the beginning it was mostly funny. I started to get a little misty eyed around autumn, but that, ending. Phew! Tears were really leaking then. 

Rachel and Miriam were outright sobbing when we turned it off (probably wondering, as I was, how they could have so easily allowed themselves to get so emotionally invested in the relationship between a fictional robot and goose, but there we were...fully invested). 

"I only almost cried," Alexander, who had done some crying earlier in the movie, boasted. "But..."

And with that he broke down into sobs, ran across the room, and flung himself into Andrew's lap to have a good, healthy cry. 

We told him it was difficult for him to keep his emotions inside because he'd lost a tooth earlier that day, so he was just a little unplugged, that's all. 

(He lost a tooth just before dinner, by the way, and...given the way half our children were openly bawling on the couch...we're fairly open to allowing our children feel their feels...we were just joking about keeping his emotions bottled up inside).

Miriam made a joke about her having even more of an excuse since she'd recently had so many (five) teeth pulled.

*****

Earlier in the movie, Phoebe had come to sit in my lap. She was enamored with the gosling and was being quite cuddly, so I gave her a little snuggle and whispered, "I love you," in her ear. 

"Good," she said, giving me a little squeeze back.

Such a pithy response made Andrew and me laugh (Andrew was sitting beside me on the couch with Alexander-the-emotional-roller-coaster on his lap, either laughing or crying at any given moment). 

*****

After the movie we reconvened at the dinner table to enjoy the babka, though not all of us would do that. Phoebe found herself hankering for a less...crusty...treat. The babka was, if you will, a little...hard. Like, you know how cinnamon buns are often ooey-gooey-pull-apart-y? You could clunk the top of this babka with your fork and it would make a dense sound...like hitting crusty bread. 

I don't know if that's how it's supposed to be, but that's how it was. It tasted delicious, but definitely had a crisper outer layer (the inside was soft).

"Hmmm...I don't like this," Phoebe decided. "There's too much crust."

"Would you like..." Andrew began, sliding his plate toward her and clearly planning to offer her a bite of the soft middle of his piece.

"I would like a cookie," Phoebe declared regally.

That made everyone laugh because what kind of entitled three-year-old...

Well, as it turns out we actually did have cookies that she had in mind. A neighbour had given us a bunch of Pepperidge Farm cookies, and we ate some earlier in the week, but I also reserved a few packages to take to my meeting today...and then still ended up bringing a package home. 

So she knew just what cookie she wanted. And we let her have one because...hey...more babka for us.

*****

Rachel got all her schoolwork finished just fine this week, though she was feeling a little tense about a big project that she had to finish this evening. And then we made her stop working to have dinner and watch a movie with us (she didn't have to stay for the movie, but it's a pretty short movie and you get really invested in the goose and robot, like really invested) and she was a little bit grumpy about that. 

And while the kids were getting things set up for a movie night she may or may not have called them all...butts. 

So later (was it before dinner or before dessert? I think dessert), Phoebe was sitting at her place with her plate, eagerly awaiting the treat that she'd soon reject, and Zoë started flitting about her (kissing and tickling her and just...bothering her). 

Phoebe swatted her away with her plate (pegging her in the face), and said, "Stop being a butt!"

We checked on Zoë, talked to Phoebe (and Rachel!) about how we don't call our siblings...butts...and then I asked Phoebe if she would kindly apologize to Zoë for hitting her in the face with a plate. 

"Sorry, Zoë," Phoebe crooned sweetly. 

"It's okay," Zoë sniffed.

And then Phoebe tacked on (a little less sweetly): "Even though you're being a butt!"

*****

So we're nailing this parenting gig. Probably. I mean, as Pinktail says in Wild Robot, we're all just...making it up as we go along!

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