Silly Bandz

Like most children her age, Rachel is mad for Silly Bandz. If you have somehow missed the craze, Silly Bandz are colorful rubber bands in the shape of various objects. Kids collect and trade them.

At any rate, Rachel informed me this aftenoon that Silly Bandz were around when I was young.

"I did not realize that" was my reply.

"Mommy says they were all round!" she stated simply.

How's That Again?

As Rachel bit into a piece of steak at the Japanese Hibachi Grill she proclaimed, "I"m a vegetarian, but I don't like vegetables!"

Where There's A Will, Rachel Has Her Say

Seven-year-olds and the elderly have one thing in common; they will say whatever crosses their minds. The elderly don't care what others think. The 7-year-olds don't know any better.

We had two recent reminders that Rachel hasn't developed an edit mechanism. Actually, her daddy often shares that trait, but that's another story for another time.

Exhibit A: There is a teacher at my wife's school named Sylvia. Sylvia has a very strong Boston accent. My wife sounds nothing like her. Yet, Rebecca has quite a talent for mimicry. She does a dead-on impersonation of Sylvia. Sylvia puts up with it, although she denies she sounds like Rebecca's version.

Sometime during the Jewish holidays, Rebecca and Rachel are walking down the hall and Sylvia is walking toward them. Rachel turns to her mother and says, "Mommy, do Sylvia! Do Sylvia!" Rebecca was a bit embarrassed.

Exhibit B: I just found this example. And it's a doozy. Rachel has the hots for a boy named Will, who is in her class. Will has sandy blond hair and there was a birthday party for him at school today.

Caroline is Rachel's BFF. She and Rachel have already discussed going to the University of Georgia together.

Rachel made Will a birthday card at home tonight. Rebecca and I plan to ask her to do some editing. Apparently, Will likes the University of Georgia as well, because Rachel drew a big G on the outside and inside of her card. I'm going to reprint the card as it is spelled, because it's just so cute.

On the outside it reads: "Will Happy Brthday"

You open it up and it says "Happy Brthday Yore a close friend to me." Then there is a drawing of a heart and "Rachel'. I love what follows. "Oh and ps caroine dos not Like you"

I guess you can diss your BFF when it comes to matters of the heart.

My Quotable Daughter

Rachel has been on fire with the quotes this week.

Example One:

(Picking up Rachel at school)
"Hey, Rachel! Guess what daddy did today that he hasn't done in a long time?" (Mow the lawn)
"Take a shower?"
"NO! Do I smell bad?"
"No"
(Thanks for the paranoia, though)

Example two:

"Daddy, there's a boy in choir. I think he's in LOVE with me!"
"Why do you think that?"
"Whenever I look at him, he smiles."
"Do you know his name?"
"No, but he knows mine."
"How does he know your name? Did you get in trouble for talking?"
"Yes"
"Is he in your grade?"
"No, he's a fourth grader and HE LOOKS NOTHING LIKE ME, except he's pale."
Apparently, looking like Rachel is the gold standard.
"So, you like choir?"
"Choir is great!....Cute boy?....Rachel is in!"

Keep in mind, Rachel is 7 1/2. Don't you just get the feeling the teenaged years are going to be a blast?

Bonding

As evidenced by my last post, my little girl is growing up quickly. For one thing, she dislikes it when I call her "my little girl." I apologize when I'm around her---"Sorry, Rachel, but to me, you'll always be my little girl."

At any rate, mommy and daddy had a difficult time waking up this morning. Mommy, because she expended so much energy singing at two services last night. Daddy, because Rachel apparently unplugged his sleep apnea machine from the wall last night when she fell out of our bed. I put my mask on last night, but apparently fell asleep before realizing it wasn't on. I must have awakened myself all night, but not realized it.

Anyway, we attended the service for second through seventh graders. Rachel had her own chair, though for the most part, it wasn't necessary. Clad in a beautiful floor-length burgundy dress, he spent much of the service curled up in my arms.

She's not two anymore, so it's a risk of back pain for me to lift her, but G-d made her the perfect size to curl up into my arms. Usually, I wear my late father's old tie tack, which makes me feel like I'm bringing him along with me. No tie today though.

Instead, Rachel practiced buttoning and unbuttoning my shirt. She
sang gently in Hebrew and English. She ran to the Torah as it was paraded around the sanctuary and touched her handout to it, then kissed the handout. She danced a little, smiled a little and gave little waves to friends she recognized in the room. Yes, she got a little restless, but it was because her physical hunger had overtaken any spiritual hunger.

Afterwards, the three of us went to a friend's house for fellowship and food. Once daddy finished making about fourteen wrong turns, we found the place. Normally, we go to a restaurant, but this visit gave Rachel a chance for an impromptu playdate and her parents a chance to talk to actual adults.

Apparently, Rachel forgot about her hunger as she got to playing with everyone else. At one point, I looked outside and noticed she was the only child on the swingset. Gingerale in hand, I headed down the steps to check on her.

"There's nobody here to play with!" she said.

"Want to get on the swing?" I asked. "I'll push you."

She embraced the idea.

"Push me higher, daddy!" begged our little thrillseeker. I complied.

With each push, she went a little higher. Her delighted giggles hung in the air. I never saw her face, just her hair flying back and forth with each push.

I took a mental snapshot, knowing moments like these will be less common as she grows older and spends more time with her friends and less with her parents. In my mind, it was a magic moment when work and stress took a back seat to a dad and daughter becoming one. Just the creak of a swing, the feeling of a large hand in a smaller back, a joyous laugh. Just a father and his little girl.

They Grow Up Fast

Not that I'm a fortuneteller or anything, but I have glimpsed the future and earlier than I would like.

Rosh Hashanah services were tonight. The three of us had dinner together. Then I was to take Rachel upstairs to an activity room, while I came down to the sanctuary and watched her mom sing with the choir.

We got to the activity room before the teacher had even arrived. Right after we walked in, a crisply dressed second grader in a blue suit walked in.

"Hi I.J." said Rachel, as she sat down demurely in a chair in her strapless dress and plastic lavender shoes.

I.J. walked toward her and said, "Nice shoes."

Smooth one, I.J.

The teacher still hadn't shown up. I stood there, looking at my daughter.

"You can go dad," she assured me.

Somehow, I knew the "please don't kiss me" was implied.