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.