My Fresh Hell
Life in Scribbletown.

Spicy Roses


Dusty wrote a song last night. Before she sang it she told me I was not allowed to laugh or smile or even look at her.

“You can’t do anything.”

I asked her for a piece of paper and something to write with. “Why?” “So I can write down the words to your song. So we’ll remember it.”

She was pleased and it gave me something to focus on so I wouldn’t smile while she sang. She has strung a large rubber band from one dresser knob to another below it to make a guitar so she could strum along to the song. She’s desperate for a guitar of her own.

Here is her song:

The Stars, The Moon, and The Sun is Up

There was a lamb
Who wanted my roses
But they were too spicy.

Then there was a duck
Who came to eat the petals
Of my favorite flowers –

Now, when I heard “lamb” and “roses” I immediately thought of "The Little Prince," something I’d tried to read to her awhile ago but, apart from the illustrations (particularly of the snake that swallowed an elephant), she wasn’t interested. Maybe I can try again soon.

She then told me she was going to sing another song entitled, “Henry, Henry, Where’s the Stars?” but she got sidetracked by her Mars brain and decided to read "Captain Underpants" to me instead. I'm sure there's a connection there somewhere.


Her preschool/daycare, in the summer, is all about swimming and field trips. This month alone she goes to: the Children’s Museum, the devil’s workshop – The Cheese, a park, and the movie theatre. Not to mention a puppet show and pajama/movie day (which I hate because why would you waste a perfectly good summer day inside with the tv on when you could be doing...oh, I don’t know...ANYTHING else?).

Yesterday was the children’s museum trip and I was bombarded with pleas to take her back THIS WEEKEND or NEXT WEEKEND or RIGHTTHISVERYMINUTE because apparently she had a terrific time and cannot bear to be away from the place. I am happy she had a good time but this weekend is reading to dogs and groceries on Saturday, and lunch with my mother (groan) on Sunday.

At least at my mom’s she can bring her bike and ride on the sidewalks. Plus, a girl from Beloved Preschool lives three houses down and even though the girl’s house contains two or three large and completely out of control greyhounds, there is the possibility of getting to play with Emma. So, there’s that. But the Dusty, she is never satisfied for long!


Dusty Quote of the Day:

[Preface: Conversation takes place in the car on the way to preschool. She’s finally remembered to keep a Barbie in the car to play with. Miss B is suddenly tied up to the arm of Dusty’s booster seat by (her own petard) the sash of her skirt.]

“A bad guy tied her up!”
“Yeah, but the prince is coming.” (insert internal groan here)
“He’ll be here later this afternoon.” (typical!)
“I hope she can wait that long.”
“She tricked the bad guy, though. She turned the wooden chair into a refrigerator so she can open the door and eat whenever she wants.”



1:13 p.m. ::
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