Here and There, Now and Then

Just an odd assortment:

Nelly pranced by me today and I patted her head. It was crunchy, and a strong smell of hairspray diffused itself in her wake. So that was why the bottle was almost empty earlier...

***

Daddy was snuggling Inge before bed and simultaneously having a moment of poignant reflection. "Are you really six?" he asked. A muffled voice replied, "I've been six for at least a month already."

***

Nelly greeted me before church (after shower and clothes, and actually before makeup and hair) with this heartening salutation: "Oh, Mommy, you look myoootiful. You're wearing makeup, aren't you?"

And Nelly prayed tonight for many, many things. In one of her final sentences she prayed rather notably for Uganda, and for Norf America, and that Mommy would keep on wearing makeup--in that order.

***

A conversation with Inge and Lewis:

Me, introducing one of those mindbenders parents just love to bring up and discuss--

You know, Lewis, when you're grown up and married and have your own little boy, it will be pretty fun to bring Clark (the bear) out, and explain that he used to be yours when you were little. Lewis, hitherto conversable, balked at this and a mulish look overspread his face.

Lewis: I don't want to get married. I mean, I don't want to get married to anyone else.

Me: What do you mean?

Lewis: I'll just get married to Inge.

(Now this is remarkable and we can only assume he's a bit of a glutton for punishment--either that or he doesn't yet understand that most of us are looking for some level of mutuality in an indissoluble relationship of that sort.)

Me: But you can't do that.

Lewis, who had been told before, nevertheless looking stymied. Assuming I had misunderstood: "I mean when I grow up."

Me: Nope, still can't do that.

Lewis: Well, I don't want to get married. I won't get married.

Inge: I know, Lewis! You could be a monk.

Me, interested: What's a monk, Inge?

Inge: Oh, you know. One of those guys that live in a...(looking a trifle unsure)...in a...nunnery.

Lewis: I think I'll just grow up and be a boarder. Yep, that's what I'll do; I'll be a boarder.

Me: Oh, so you want to go away to college?

Lewis--clearly not suffering from any untoward attachment to home and family: "Yeah." Then thoughtfully elaborating further, "I want to go to school so I can play at the park."

Me, enlightened: At the park.

Lewis: Yeah. Maybe when I'm six. Or seven or eight.