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sweet sunday brunch to celebrate Bear’s 35th birthday. we didn’t have dessert, so we put candles in a stack of blueberry pancakes and spared everyone the awkward embarrassment that comes from singing happy birthday in the middle of a crowded restaurant. emma and i got him new blue shoes (a different style than the blue shoes we bought him for the last birthday…it’s a running theme) and she wrote/recorded some cool beatnick poetry onto the video camera for him. it was just a quiet family afternoon, filled with that familiar comfort of home; here’s hoping the year ahead is filled with more and more of the same.

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emma ordered the fresh carrot juice, and although she insisted she liked it, her face here was a little less diplomatic:

fortunately, there was a rootbeer chaser to cleanse her palate:

we didn’t say anything about it (and in fact, she did drink a good amount of the carrot juice). when i was a kid, my grandparents held onto stories like that (“remember the time you insisted on ordering the giant waffle, then couldn’t finish it, just like i told you would happen? remember the time you ate the donuts and milk on our roadtrip, then proceeded to up-chuck all over the backseat of the car – and your cousin – with 8 hours left to drive?”), and although i knew even then that the teasing was “all in fun”, i remember feeling so humiliated and defensive every time.

when we joke around, i try to make sure my teasing of emma doesn’t hit too close to the bone…that can really hurt a kid’s confidence. and, you know, i’m a big believer in not repeating the same parental injustices of one’s childhood, but instead finding all new (and equally well-intentioned) ways of screwing up the whole PerfectParent effort.

(that said, the “donuts+milk” story is pretty epic as far as car-sick stories go…whew.)

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hope your week is going smoothly and without a single cringe-worthy story to tell.
xoxo

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