tomorrow horror

Annie is upstairs “napping,” but really she’s singing, in a quiet, repetitive drone, a song she remembers from Annie the movie:

Tomorrow, Tomorrow, I love you, I love you,
Tomorrow, Tomorrow, I love you, I love you,
Tomorrow, Tomorrow, I love you, I love you…

I should probably record her and sell it as a horror movie soundtrack.

it’s getting interesting

On the way home from school today, Annie told me that houses start with blue paper. Blueprints, she meant, of course. It led to a conversation about architects, and who they are and what they do. I told her I was working with an architect at work—maybe our first genuine exchange about what I do at my job. Cool.

During our elaborate bedtime routine, she asked if grown-ups cried, and when I told her yes, she asked what made them cry. (“When Dad takes your things?” she suggested.) We talked about┬álearning what to do with your feelings, and how that takes practice and grown-ups have done a lot of practicing, and that people are more important than things, and all sorts of good stuff.┬áThen she held my hand and said, “I’m happy right now,” and I melted into the floor.


Actual word: birthday
Annie’s word: birthcake

Actual word: elevator
Annie’s word: alligator

Actual word: swimming pool
Annie’s word: swimming cool
Paul’s word: seemah pool

Actual word: vitamin
Annie’s word: vitanim
Paul’s word: MINA MINA!

Actual word: ambulance
Annie’s word: ambluance
Paul’s word: we-oh truck
Everyone’s word, now: we-oh truck


annie said

Annie said one of those marvelous things tonight that made me think, simultaneously, “Oh, amazing, write this down!!” and, “No one else would find this remarkable, and neither will you looking back, when she’s speaking in paragraphs and smarter than you are.”

This happens all the time. Both are true. And then the evening swept on, and I don’t remember it anyway.