Just because Easter and associated hype and excitement and chocolate WEREN’T ENOUGH, we thought today, the next day, would be a good time to have Chickadee’s last day as a 7-year-old. Just for fun. Or maybe the calendar just sort of worked out this way. Whatever.
Also the child managed to lose a tooth this weekend, and decided to wait to give it to the tooth fairy until tonight.
It’s almost more excitement than I can handle. And tonight Chickadee admonished me to make sure I remember what she’s like at seven, because today is my last chance. She’s been referring to herself as eight for a couple of months now (and if you catch her at it, she admits “Well, ALMOST eight!”) so perhaps the transition doesn’t feel as startling to me. But yes, her last day of seven-ness. Let’s make sure it’s remembered.
Math Is Hard
[At math enrichment, this morning]
Me: Okay, so we have 10 sides on this die, with 10 different possible numbers. Tom just rolled a 6. Can anyone tell me what the chances of that were?
Boy: About 22%?
Another Boy: I think there was a good chance.
Boy Whom Chickadee Has A Crush On: There’s a 10% chance.
Me: Right! Good! Can you tell us why?
BWCHACO: Because it’s 10%.
Me: Welllllll… yes….
Chickadee: I don’t get it, Mama.
Me: Okay, we have 10 possible numbers. They’re all equally likely. So we have a 1 in 10 chance of rolling a 1. A 1 in 10 chance of rolling a 2. And so on. Does that make sense to everyone?
Chickadee: I’m confused.
Me: What are you confused about, sweetheart?
Chickadee: I’m not sure.
Me: Yes. Well. That does sound confusing. Here, let’s lay it out with the number tiles and see if it makes more sense.
*I make the boys help me do a visual representation, and then Chickadee gets it. We move on.*
Me: Okay, so now we have two dice, each with ten sides, and Joe rolled a 37. How do we figure out the chances of that happening?
Boys: …
Chickadee: You explain it to me three or four times?
Where Babies Come From
[In the car, this evening]
Chickadee: *holding up her stuffed rabbit* Heeeeello, let’s get together and make out!
Monkey: *holding up his stuffed rabbit to meet hers* Okay! Let’s!
Me: WHOA! What??! MAKE OUT?
Chickadee: They’re just KISSING, Mama. Get over it.
Monkey: SMOOOOCH! KISS KISS!
Me: Um, NO. I will not “get over it.” There will be no MAKING OUT in this car. Where did you even HEAR that phrase?
Chickadee: Oh, FINE. Nevermind. *holding up rabbit again* Hi! Want to go on a DATE?
Monkey: *pausing from mauling his rabbit, holding it up to meet hers again* Okay! Let’s go!
Chickadee: Excellent! Let’s get into my limo.
Monkey: Alright, can I drive?
Chickadee: No, silly, it’s a limo. Someone else will drive us. It’s fancy.
Monkey: Oh. Okay!
Chickadee: Let’s go to Pizza Hut! For our date!
Monkey: Yay, pizza!
Chickadee: Okay, we’re at Pizza Hut now. Time to eat our pizza!
*sounds of exaggerating chomping from all in the backseat*
Chickadee: We’re done with our pizza. Now it’s time to adopt a baby!
Monkey: I want a little boy baby.
Chickadee: Okay, I think there’s one over there. Let’s steal it.
Me: Adoption and STEALING are not the same thing!
Chickadee: Well they don’t know the difference.
Me: WHAT IS WRONG WITH THESE RABBITS??
Chickadee: This is what they do on dates. Stop interrupting.
Me: They take a limo out for pizza and then kidnap babies??
Chickadee: Sometimes. It depends what they’re in the mood for.
Me: …
Monkey: Maybe they should have dessert first.
Chickadee: We need to save the dessert so that the babies will have something to eat.
Do What I Want, Not What I Say
Chickadee requested yellow cupcakes with strawberry frosting for her in-school birthday treat, and also that we use the new Reynolds shaped baking cups that we got in the mail to try. I was happy to oblige.
And then I went to three different grocery stores and couldn’t find strawberry frosting, so I spent her inheritance (meager though it was) on a teeny bottle of strawberry extract so that I could force the frosting to be strawberry, dammit. When I explained this adventure to my daughter–ready to be showered with gratitude–she remarked that “Oh, I don’t really need it to be strawberry. I just want it to be pink.”
That would’ve been useful information to have a bit earlier.
Anyway, after some discussion it was determined that we should use only the hearts and stars because, let’s face it, I sort of blew my chance to use the egg-shaped ones. Whoops. (Monkey’s Bulbasaur oversees all of my baking, by the way.) On the other hand, I did get to pretend to be artistic while taking photos. Anyway.
So. The frosting. It looked like this, and then I added the strawberry extract and it looked like this. See the difference? I didn’t, either. So I added half a bottle of red food coloring, and then it was completely toxic (though still mildly strawberryish!) and then it looked like this. Phew. Houston, we have pink!
Meanwhile, the cupcakes were baking. When they were done, I pulled them out and frosted them and the kids argued over which one they wanted. Bulbasaur couldn’t decide which one to pick, either.
Meanwhile, I give the baking cups a big thumbs-up for making the cupcakes seem really exciting when, well, they’re just cupcakes. I was concerned that the cake would stick, but it pulled away from the sides and lifted easily (although in the end, I decided to leave the cakes in the cups for transport to school). You should totally buy those and use them to inspire the awe of your daughter. Because lord knows your investment in that stupid strawberry extract isn’t going to win you any points.
Let’s Not Get Crazy
[As I tucked her in and gave her one last snuggle, tonight.]
Chickadee: So what do you think will be different this next year, when I’m eight, that’s different from when I was seven?
Me: I dunno! Your hair is getting longer this year.
Chickadee: Besides that.
Me: Hmmm. Maybe you’ll GET BOOBS!
Chickadee: MAMAAAAAAAAAAAA!
Me: Hahahahaha I’m just kidding.
Chickadee: I think I’m a LITTLE YOUNG for that.
Me: Yes, you are.
Chickadee: How old will I be, do you think?
Me: Uhhhh… I don’t know. Everyone grows at a different speed. Maybe around 11?
Chickadee: So I only have three years left before I get boobs?
Me: Maybe.
Chickadee: Wow.
Me: Yeah.
Chickadee: I think once I have boobs I’ll be old enough to have my ears pierced.
Me: Only if you’ve figured out how to put your dirty socks in the hamper by then.
Perhaps I Doth Protest Too Much, But I Really Like Money
[Left under Chickadee’s pillow this evening, along with a pen and the envelope containing her tooth.]
Dear tooth fairy,
tomorow is my birthday I will be turning — O sorry about the late tooth as I was saying I will be turning 8. I belive in you in fact I think your the best.
Your friend,
Chickadee
P.S. I would apresheate it if you write back — thanks again
to write back write on back of paper
Today was a good day to be seven, I think. I hope tomorrow is a good day to be eight.
Happy Birthday, Chickadee!
The bunny dating episode totally cracked me up.
Hm. Our Easters sound so similar (see my blog). The bunny dating had me and my DH laughing out loud. And the cupcake episode — well, let’s just say that for my daughter’s 7th birthday (March 18) school celebration (March 17), I promised green cupcakes with green icing and rainbows and coins etc. Then I made the mix and doled out the batter into the cupcake papers without dying it green. I panicked. I swear to God the thought crossed my mind that I could maybe put a little bit of green food coloring in each cupcake, and, you know, swirl it around a little, so great was my dread at announcing the omission to Katie. She shrugged and took it in stride, however — perhaps these birthdays actually bring the elusive maturity along with them!
Tomorrow is a wonderful day to be eight.
Happy birthday Chickadee.
(And Happy 9th year of motherhood, Mir. You haven’t sold them to the gypsies yet. I think you’re doing a smashing job.)
It’s after midnight here, so Happy Birthday, Chickadee!
Ah, but it is only 9:38pm here so she is still the every so young Chickadee. But still Happy Birthday Chickadee.
The dating senario cracked me up, but It is nice to know that while she knows the words “making out” she jumped right to adopting children.
Swirling a toothpick with green dye wouldn’t have worked? Darn.
So what did Shmorgan write on the back of the note to Chickadee?
LOL! SugarPlum leaves notes for the tooth fairy, too. One time when we were expecting thunderstorms, she fashioned a little umbrella for the TF out of paper and scotch tape. She even decorated it.
I’m also laughing and envisioning the tooth fairy tapping her little foot and exclaiming that it is about dang time that tooth went under the pillow!
Happy Birthday, Chickadee!!
Oh, these are the sweetest little pictures of a seven year old. I’m getting all weepy. My baby’s only two but nine years until breasts? Wow! That’s so soon. The very last note really got me.
Happy Birthday Chickadee! You are so cool and you are only seven!
Well, buffi, I can see that at least one of ye mortals out there understands a bit about we wee folk. [No, I don’t stutter. Shut up!] We faeries, to say nothing of wee faeries [I told you to shut up!] have other things to do besides waiting for the fall of teeth that are hanging on long past their expiration dates. I will admit that we tend toward short tempered toe tapping and one eyed electrified glaring, but we have our good points as well. Think of the difficulties you would have, dealing with shoulder-high piles of discarded teeth and how you would moan at the loss of all the $1 bills which until now have been secreted away under my tiny but lovely garter, able to be deposited there by my even tinier wages and enormous good will.. This way you’ve got it easy and we do all the over loaded flying, toting and lugging of teeth, dollar bills and note paper. The mere addition to her load of a new, full sized pencil can be fatal to an inexperienced nymphette. But I am not here to scold you. Rather to give kudos to the wise buffi and sincerely good birthday wishes to the well known and loved Chickadee.
Fare thee well for the nonce, mortals.
Tink
I hope tomorrow is a great day to be 8, too! Happy birthday, from the Chickadee Fan Club!
Happy Birthday Chickadee!
Well, at least their rabbits are not yet “hooking up” or calling each other “friends with benefits!”
I hope Chickadee’s birthday is extra-special – sounds like it will be, with all you have planned! I just can’t believe she’s EIGHT!!!!! Oh, and I still heart BWCHACO – he’s a smarty-pants!
I had a brilliant comment (several, actually) but then I made it to the cupcakes and now that’s all I can think about.
Mmmmm… frosting!
Did the tooth fairy write back? And is there such a thing as a boob fairy? I wanna know howo to address my note.
Aw, happy birthday to Chickadee!
Happy Birthday Chickadee! 8 is a great age!
I love how the cupcakes turned out, you even remember the sprinkles! (Because no sugary treat is complete without them.) I need to buy some of those shaped baking cups.
Happy 8th birthday, Chickadee! I hope it’s fantastic! It already started out great, right? A visit from the tooth fairy and star- heart-shaped cupcakes with strawberry icing and sprinkles ~ sounds like a grand day to me. :)
Enjoy being 8! (Such a nice, round number…and no boobs!)
Happy Birthday, Chickadee! And hey, at least they weren’t selling bunny babies on the black market. It could be worse.
Ken Burns would be proud of the cupcake photographic essay. I was duly impressed. I am also jonesing for a cupcake right now.
Hippo Birdy, two ewes Chickadee.
Happy birthday, Chickadee! I hope eight will be your best year yet.
Mir, the make-out bunnies were a scream! I think the next time my husband takes me out I think I’ll suggest a nice evening of limos, pizza hut, and baby theft. LOL!
Happy Birthday to Chickadee!!
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Chickadee WRITES LIKE YOU! AHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! *whew*
I’m surprised she didn’t break into a story about this girl she knew, who lost her tooth and it was sort of windy that day, which didn’t affect the tooth, per se, but did mess up her hair…
You are BOTH adorable (and wordy).
p.s. I didn’t get boobs until I was 13. Then I woke up one morning with the same sized monstrosities they are today. However, they were a lot closer to my chin. And they itched.
I want a heart shaped cupcake!!!!
Oh, Happy Birthday Chickadee.
Mir, I’d tell you when DQ got her boobies, but you’d cry and that would be bad. Enjoy 8…it is an amazing year.
Oh my god those rabbits are so funny!
Happy birthday, Chickadee! I’m nearly 38 and I’m still waiting to get some boobs . . .
Mir and Chickadee,
I’m sorry to say that I got boobs at 9, or maybe it was 8 — I know I got my period at 10 and had boobs for what seemed like a lifetime before that. If I got a choice, I’d go back and put that off a few years — but alas, I don’t.
But all of that about me — to say — Happy Birthday, Chickadee.
And perhaps her bunny might be in need of reform school????
A big happy birthday to Chickadee!
I’d like Chickadee to plan my next night out! A limo? And Pizza?