Wilma, Wilma, Wilma… will it ever end?

Since I was a little girl, I have wanted to name my daughter Madeline. It was and still is, my favorite girl’s name. 

So naturally, when I had my daughter, I pitched the name Madeline to my husband and was very pleased that he liked it, as well.

At age three, my little Madeline is quite the character – mostly lovable, but sometimes a little stinker. 

The latest phase – one that doesn’t seem to be ending – is her interest in pretending that she is a dog.
She pads around the house on her hands and knees and barks when she is asked a question. And yes, she even pants and wiggles her hind end as though she has a tail to wag.
At first, it was kind of cute, so I indulged her little game and told her I would have to name my new little pup.
She loved that idea! “What’s my doggy name?” she asked.
“Wilma!” I blurted back, only because it was the first silly name that popped into my head.

And so, Wilma she became.

She informed me this weekend that Madeline had went away and that she would now only be Wilma. 

“Just call me Wilma,” she insisted. “Just Wilma.”

I pretended to cry and said that I only wanted my Madeline.
“Woof.”

I boo-hooed a little more.
“Woof. Woof.”

I got a little more dramatic about it.
She panted. “Woof. See my tongue? I’m Wilma. Woof.”

First thing Monday morning, she told my mom that she was Wilma and Madeline had left and wasn’t coming back.
My mom pretended to cry, explaining that she only wanted Madeline.
“Woof.”

It was no use.

For now, my daughter insists on being called Wilma wherever we go. She only briefly forgets about it when she is playing with her toys, coloring or decides that she’d rather walk upright and eat at the table like a person.

“Madeline” – even though it is the prettiest name in the world to me – is just not her name of choice at the moment.

Doggonit!

“Woof. Woof.”

"Wilma" and her real English Springer Spaniel, Chloe. Even Chloe doesn't know what to make of this new fad.

My kitchen has a new little boss girl

I used to have a kitchen. Then I had a daughter.

Although Madeline is only three, she’s not shy about telling me what’s up.. or down… or in her way… or anything, really.
The kid is assertive.
Some would say bossy. Some would say bratty.

I say, “That’s just Maddie.”

In about the last year or so, she has taken a shine to baking—not cooking, just baking. She likes to “help” with cookies, cupcakes, cakes (not orange) and anything else that we decide to whip up.
We refer to my stand mixer as “The Robot Mixer.”

When my “little Betty Crocker” first started to gain an interest in baking, my mom or I would say to Madeline, “Let’s make cookies. Will you help me?”

And of course, we—the adults—decided on the type of cookie or cupcake, etc.

Such is not the case any more.

Madeline will say “I want chocolate chip cookies.”

That is not open to negotiation.

If I decline and offer up another choice, chocolate chip cookies are immediately suggested again, and again.


Chocolate chip wins.

And do you know why chocolate chip wins?
Because it doesn’t matter. It’s a tiny battle that doesn’t need to be fought.
So what if we have enough batches of chocolate chip cookies to feed a small army? And so what if she wouldn’t let me frost a single sugar cookie even though I bought every conceivable color of sprinkles and sugars?

She informed me that sprinkles and sugars are “just for cupcakes.”

Silly me!

I’m just glad she likes to bake. I’m glad to spend time with her in the kitchen and I am glad that she is learning.
In time, I am sure I can convince her to make other kinds of cookies and try other kinds of cakes. But for now, chocolate chip and no bakes are her favorites. And daddy is okay with that.


And that’s ok by me, too.

A true fan never gives up

“The die-hard fan.”

That’s what I have called my husband for seven years now in reference to his love – no, obsession – with Michigan-based sports teams. I usually follow that up with: “You know they’re going to lose, right?”

And then, right on cue, they lose.

Despite that, Aaron maintained his love for the Detroit Lions… and the Tigers… and the Pistons… and of course, the Red Wings. Admittedly, a few of those teams had me hooked, too.
But it was always the Lions that captured his attention and inevitably knocked the wind out of his sails each season.
“Why do you even get your hopes up?” I would ask him. “They always lose!”

He loved them. He cheered for them. He obsessed over them – even during the pre and post seasons.

On Sunday, I thought it was going to be the same old story.

The Lions were falling to the Dallas Cowboys by 24 points and Aaron was parked in the recliner, muttering things under his breath, slapping his forehead and growling in disgust occasionally.
I went outside to do a little fall yard work and to get away from the gloomy, black cloud that he had cast over the livingroom.

With the game still being played, Aaron came outside, still in a Lions-induced funk. He decided to walk away from it for a bit – of course, he was recording it so there would be more to “enjoy” later.

So we worked while he sulked… and sulked.

When we came back inside for a break, he flipped the TV on in a hurry.

He got a little happier… and then a little happier. And then, all of a sudden, they won. The Lions actually came back and won!

“Huh, I can’t believe it!” I told him, which resulted in an I-told-you-so glare. “Well, now you can be in a good mood again!”

Madeline heard that and thought it was worthy of repeating a mere 20 times.

“Daddy is in a good mood now because the Lions won,” she squealed, giggling and dancing.

And he was. Top that off with a win from the Tigers and he was just plain giddy on Tuesday morning.

I have to admit, it was pretty exciting to see the Lions come back and win. Let’s not be mistaken, I am by no means a “Lions fan,” but it was pretty cool.
And with a 4-0 record, I might even be a little more interested in watching the rest of the season unfold.

If it does go badly, at least Aaron certainly knows the agony of seeing his team defeated, the disappointment and heartache of another sad season – like I said, he’s a “die-hard Lions fan.”
He’ll recover. He always does.

Barn Festival

Madeline has been to our local Barn Festival every single year that she has been around. I think she likes it - I hope she likes it!
Last year we did all of the rides, including the wagon ride and she did the barrel train, which was a shockingly long ride. Mommy and Daddy, Grammy and Poppy both stood (somewhat nervously) on the sidelines as our little pint rode around... and around... and around... the track.

"Okay... bring her back now...."

"Any time now.... bring her back...."

The longest barrel ride EVER.

We plan on going again next year. And probably the year after that since it is pretty much a fall tradition. Nevermind the fact that I see umpteen people that I went to school with... and umpteen people that I have done stories on... I kinda just ignore it and try to have fun. It's fun for Madeline and it is a wholesome, quality festival that I kinda dig because she actually learns stuff each time she goes.

This year she learned how people washed clothes on a washboard and what it is like to pump water using an old-fashioned hand pump. That is pretty cool for a kid to see and do.

Checking out the animals in the big barn with daddy

She got to eat a hotdog in the hot, hot food barn. She got to see the petting zoo. And for the past couple years, she gets a book at the Osborn (or is it Uzborn?) book booth. They are overpriced, ridiculously overpriced, books that we can't pass up.

(More fascinated with a bale of straw)

Water works

And of course, we always find some sort of el-cheapo toy at the flea market to haul home. Nine out of 10 times I go there hoping to find some gem for myself and instead walk away with a bag of goodies for Madeline. It's a mild disappointment, but worth the trip to see her smile and meander through a barn that I passed every day on the school bus. I always took it for granted, but I guess it is pretty awesome.

A bin of wheat to play in

Cell phone, potty, rice… need I say more?

“Why aren’t you answering your cell phone?”

If you asked me that question on Wednesday… or if you couldn’t reach me on Wednesday . . . I’m sorry. I was not reachable on my precious cell phone.

We had . . . an incident.

Wednesday started out like any other day. I was showered and dressed before the toddler rolled out of bed. Her awakening is usually followed by a leisurely trip to her Elmo potty, which is still stationed in the kitchen for easy access.

On this particular day, she did her business on the potty and then spied a computer keyboard that she had been playing with the night before – sending e-mails and looking at pictures on her imaginary computer.

She stood up, grabbed it and swept it off the counter. But that’s not all she swept off the counter.

“Oh no, Mommy!”

Oh, yes. My cell phone landed directly in the Elmo potty. SPLASH. In fresh toddler pee.

I shrieked and raced to grab my precious cell phone, pulling it from the potty and not caring that pee was dripping on the floor as I scrambled to take it apart.

RICE! I remembered that you were supposed to put a wet cell phone in rice to wick away the moisture.
I opened the pantry and luckily, found a box of Minute Rice and plopped the phone in a big bowl of it.

But, it only partially did the trick. The battery was shorted out – probably because I kept trying and trying to use it instead of just letting it sit in the rice bowl.

Thankfully, the phone works. I gladly paid $40 for a new battery rather than a few hundred bucks for a replacement phone.

You see, my gadget guru hubby and I like our cool little ‘smart phones,’ but we’re too cheap or maybe just ‘not smart’ enough for phone insurance. I always tell him to refuse it. And this time, I actually regretted it.
Does phone insurance cover accidental drowning in urine?

Oh well, at least rice is cheap.

Hi Mommy, this is my ‘Morning Glub’

"Chloe Bug"... Morning Glub

There’s nothing quite like the bond between a kid and their first dog - or dogs, as happens to be the case in our household.

My 3-year-old is infatuated with her two dogs, Chauncey and Chloe. They’re English Springer Spaniels and they’re also litter mates, which means one is never far from the other.

My daughter isn’t too far from them either!

She follows them, chases them, hugs them and “snuggles” with them. For the most part, she’s very good with them and only occasionally gives their long, droopy ears a little tug.

Sometimes she is a little too good to them. We learned quickly to keep their food just out of reach or else they would be fed... and fed... and fed.

For some reason, she has taken more of a shine to Chloe. The little female is the more mild-mannered of the dogs and definitely the smaller one.

Last week, while on vacation, we spent a good amount of time outside, painting a shed. Of course, the dogs had to be out with us.

And the dogs give chase....

During any long stay outdoors, the “toddler queen” usually ends up in her playhouse, “cooking up” something. The dogs usually go along with the fun - sometimes held captive against their will - in the playhouse.

“MORNING GLUB! There’s my Morning Glub.”

I paused, thinking I had misheard that strange phrase.

“MORNING GLUB, come here!”

I had to go see what a Morning Glub was.

“Whatcha doin’?” I asked the kid.

“I am calling Morning Glub to come here,” she responded. “This is my Morning Glub. I love her.”

“Morning Glub?” I questioned.

The toddler queen informed me that she had renamed Chloe. She was now to be known as Morning Glub.

“You mean Morning Glory?” I asked, hoping I was right.

“No, Glub.”

“Cub?” I asked.

“GLUB.”

“Bug?” still hoping for something more sensible than a Glub.

“GLUB. I said GLUB.”

“Glove?”

“GLUB,” she insisted.

What is a Glub? I do not know. But for the dog formerly known as Chloe, it is now her new name. Perhaps I should inform the vet that her records need to be changed... re-register her? Probably not.

For the remainder of the day - and still to this very day - the toddler queen periodically lapses into calling the dog, “Morning Glub.”

The dog doesn’t respond, of course.

So, just like any good little toddler who does anything and everything to get their way, she eventually - after about 20 minutes of calling “MORNING GLUB,” gives in to logic and whispers, “Chloe, come here, Chloe.”

When Chloe (a.k.a. Morning Glub) finally hears her name, she gladly comes over to the kid, wagging her tail. She simply doesn’t know what a Morning Glub is either.

The toddler claims victory over the dog.

“I love you, Morning Glub. I knew you’d come back. Good little Morning Glub.”

District Convention 2011

Maddie showing off her KooKoo Birds. She loves those silly things.

July 2011 marked our last District Convention together as the "Ewald" clan. Aaron's family officially moved to Kentucky at the beginning of this month, but they returned for one last convention with us since their new congregation, Hopkinsville, already had theirs. Here are some shots of the 2011 District Convention (three days we look forward to SO MUCH in Saginaw at the Dow).

Aaron had to be an attendant in an upper level section at the District, which meant he had to get there EXTRA early... Mommy and Madeline rode in with Grammy and Poppy! The top of our section had an interesting space behind the seats that all of the kids rather enjoyed!

Maddie and Arianna

Nana missed Madeline for two weeks before she got to come "home" for the District.

Caro congregation kids... plotting something

The view from our section

Bestest Cousins, Madeline and Landon

SAY CHEESE!

Say CHEESE AGAIN!

Bunny ears...

Snacking on some goldfish outside the Dow... hair falling down

I'll go anywhere you go, Landon! Alexis is coming too!

Landon, Madeline and Nana at the Dow.

Madeline and Alexis

Watching the traffic? I'm not sure...

Cleaning up after a big day at the District

Blurry, but happy!

Checking out the stage after the District.

Add caption

And there's Landon too!

The Ewalds, District Convention 2011