Addie C. Jones and her New Purple Kiki
Author: jill
•8:46 AM
Did you have one when you were little? A blankie, that is?

Mine was pink and it was made of that waffle material. It was so soft and I loved it, a lot. I did not give it up until I was (at least) six years old and certainly not until I was shamed into doing so. Even then I kept it hidden in my closet because I just could not say good-bye. I wonder what ever happened to it?

Addie C. has a blankie, too. And she has loved it to pieces. Literally.

It once was a beautiful shade of pale purple. Now, it is a disgusting shade of dark gray. And it is in rags. Don't worry, I'll tell you what happened to it.

When she was a newborn, Grama Jones made a soft fluffy pink blankie for Addie. And although Addie C. could not tell us if she loved it or not, I loved it so much that Grama Jones bought me a kit and I made her a soft, fluffy purple blankie.

As she grew a little older, and could make some decisions of her own, Addie always chose the purple blankie.

"Popo kiki," she would squeal and point. "Popo kiki!"

And so, the fluffy, purple blankie became known by all as "Purple Kiki." I'm beginning to think she will never leave.

Purple Kiki goes everywhere with us. To the park. To the grocery store. To visit Grama Jones. To drive the big kids to school. Camping with Nana. She even tried to bring it to the beach, but sometimes a mom must enforce some rules. And don't worry ... I'm not one of the completely ridiculous parents who lets their four-year-old drag their blankie through the store. Purple Kiki must stay in the van ... mostly because I would die a thousand deaths if anyone ever saw it! However, in some strange I way I also cherish her and it seems that Purple Kiki has become the sixth member of our family.

Addie C. Jones also likes to suck her thumb. I know ... but there is nothing I can do about it. The more I make of it, the more she wants to suck for comfort - 'cause she feels bad. So I don't even mention it. But, when Addie C. was little(r), I did notice that she likes to grip the blankie in her little hand while she sucks that thumb.

Each night I would lay Purple Kiki across her, the straight edge tucked under her little chin, and watch as she snuggled in. Until one night ...

"No, Mommy," Addie C. Jones explained. "I want a corn."

"Corn? What?" I am searching for answers. "I don't know what you mean, Addie." Let's face it, we're never sure what Addie C. means.

"No. I want the corn of my kiki. Like dis." She begins to turn her blankie until she finds the corner, and I am enlightened. But what you should know, is that there are only two corns which can be snuggled under her nose while she sucks to sleep. The other two are not worthy.

What makes them worthy? I have no idea but I suspect that it has to do with some (disgusting) smell. Because two of the corns are a slightly darker shade of grey than the others. But maybe I'm just being judgmental.

Ugh.

One day, last Fall I came home to find that Addie C. had taken a pair scissors from the craft room and cut slices into one side of Purple Kiki. Now, let me assure you that the way in which I handled this very delicate situation was completely wrong. I should have said, "Oh, well. I guess you don't need Purple Kiki any more. Let's put her in the garbage together." Good riddance.

But no, I think with my heart, remember? And often, the filter in my brain is switched to off, so instead, it goes a little something like this ...

"Oh, Addie. Poor Purple Kiki, you cut her," I say, feeling a loss for this blankie that has been so important to her. But also, attaching human-like sentiment to this inanimate object.

"Oh, Mommy," Addie wails, "can you fix her? Puulllleeeaase ... I love her. Sew her together. Ahhhhhhh..." (imagine many tears dripping down a little girl's face).

"I don't know if I can Addison," I answer, and here comes the really, really bad part. "Maybe Mommy can sew you a new one."

She stops crying, smiles, and screams, "Yeah!! New purple kiki! New purple kiki!" It is at this point that I realize I will never get rid of Purple Kiki. She will live with us forever.

Now, being the excellent parent that I am, I left this task as long as possible. After dealing with my own sense of loss, I kept thinking that she would just give up on it. If there was nothing to replace this "thing," perhaps she would just move on and no longer need a kiki. Or, maybe the nice, clean, soft pink one would become beloved. Plus, she is starting school soon, and she is always telling me that she is a big girl now. So, I kept figuring (which should be read "hoping") that Addie C. would wake up one day not caring about Purple Kiki anymore.

No such luck.

In fact, she cut Purple Kiki some more and essentially made a sleeping bag ... even more cozy than the original. But it is a disgrace and I'm pretty sure Purple Kiki might be health violation.

So, I made her a new one. It is fluffly and soft and it smells fabulous. Addie welcomed it with open arms. She carried Purple Kiki 2 around all day, the original being left in a heap somewhere.

So, on her first night with Purple Kiki 2, I crept into her bedroom to check on her with a little excitement, anxious to see the new kiki in use. There she was, in her bed, the angel that she is, wrapped up in ... in the original. What? Where did she come from?

Purple Kiki 2 has been left lying in a heap on the floor beside her bed.

The next morning I must investigate ...

"Addie, did you sleep with your new Purple Kiki?" I ask.

She looks a little uncomfortable. "No," she mumbles.

I ask her why not.

"It doesn't suck," Addie C. says.

"I know," I say. "It smells great, and it is pretty. No, it doesn't suck - that's for sure." I completely missed the point.

"No, it doesn't suck," she says, pulling at the corn as she sticks her thumb in her mouth.

Oh. It doesn't "suck." Hmmmm.... this is going to be a problem.

Over the last couple of weeks since Purple Kiki 2 entered the scene she has been elevated in status because Addie C. now allows her on the bed. In fact, for awhile, she was using it like a sheet. She needed some time to warm up, I guess. Maybe she felt like she was cheating on the original.

In the meantime, I'm thinking of attaching Purple Kiki 2 to the back of the lawnmower until it gets that real earthy, dirt smell that she seems to adore so much.

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Things Overheard on a "Aversity" Campus
Author: jill
•11:31 AM
... featuring Addie C. Jones.

Over the last couple weeks of June, Addie C. and I had to visit the University a few times. She would hit the campus running, her pace slowing only when it was time to get back into our van. But she had lots of things to say along the way.

"Is that the Aversity? The place with the pictures of the beer bottles all over it?" This is overheard on the way to the Aversity, as we drove by the Hiram Walker plant on Riverside Drive.
"Nope, but University is a place just like this ..." I explain. At least it was when Jonesy and I were last on Campus.

"Hello!" or "Hi! I'm Addie."  Addie C. says hello to everyone - outside landscapers, construction workers, secretaries, students, rocks, grass, puppies named Cooper ... everyone. Until someone says "hello" to her and then she wants to hide.

"What's that drink, Mommy?" Addie C. asks, pointing to a vending machine.
"That is Full Throttle Energy Drink," I tell her.
"Can we get some?" she wants to know. "Puleeeeeeeeese..."
"No. You may NEVER have that drink. Not ever."
And I am very serious about that.

"Can we go up those stairs 'cause I've never been there before." This is not really a question, because she is already half way up the stairs before she has finished the statement.

"Mommy!! Don't leave me ..." screamed at the top of her lungs, as she is running "full throttle" across the campus.

"I don't like that building with all the weeds on it."
Addie C. is referring to Dillon Hall, once known as Assumption Hall. It was built in 1928 and is the most architecturally beautiful building on campus. Plus ... it holds a special place in my heart because I had many, many classes in there and I had my picture taken in front of it (with those beautiful weeds as a back drop), wearing my cap and gown after my graduation with my Grampa.

"Addison, if you don't stay with Mommy, I will not bring you to visit the University again." As she is running "full throttle" across the campus.

"Do they have a garbage at this place? At the Aversity?" Addie C. asks.
"Yes, they do," I explain. These are the types of conversations I participate in.
"Then why do people just throw their stuff on the floor?" she wants to know, as she points out a dirty kleenex on the ground.
"I don't know," I tell her honestly.
She has a point. Why don't people use the garbage bins that are scattered around campus?

"She is just beautiful." Commented by a young girl waiting in a line behind us. She was probably thinking that her children will never run around all crazy like this little girl. See you in a few years ... 'cause that is exactly what I once thought.

Just wait until she visits the Aversity when all the full-time students return. Wait ... would you take crazy Addie C. Jones to a crowded University Campus? Me either.
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Addie C. Jones and the Re-Styled Pink Party Dress
Author: jill
•9:53 AM
I am currently reading a book in which the author confronts the idea that most of us do not enjoy what is happening right now. We wish we were younger. We wish our children would move on to the next (developmental) stage. We can't wait until the weekend or our week of vacation at the end of July. Why do we rush through the things we are doing? Why do we rush to get to the park? Why do we rush around doing errands on Saturdays? Why do we hurry and eat supper?

He says that we should enjoy the here and now.

Obviously, he has not lived with Addie C. Jones, or he would understand that the reason I rush through supper (on some days) is because it means that I am one step closer to bedtime. And the quiet.

When the kids get home from school, it gets a little chaotic on most days. Everyone is talking at the same time, about something different. Backpacks are unpacked, popsicles are chosen. Some go outside, some go to the computer, some go to the television.

But today, Addie C. just disappeared for a few minutes. This, of course, means trouble. Eventually, she turns up and decides to follow Marnie outside. However, as she is running by the kitchen, I notice that something just doesn't look right with her dress.

"Stop!" I call after her. Addie C. comes back to the kitchen.

"Yes, Mommy?" she asks. She sounds sweet, doesn't she? All innocent and everything.

"What is on your dress?" I ask her. "Can you show Mommy please?"

She smiles her biggest smile. She proudly shows off how she has taken a dark green marker and decorated the sash on her pretty pink party dress. Why is she wearing a pretty pink party dress on a regular Wednesday afternoon, you ask? Because this is Addie C. Jones and every day is a party for her.



So, I took a deep breath and reminded myself of the message from the book I am reading. I need to enjoy the here and now because she is not always going to be a very cute little four-year-old girl. Someday soon we will be arguing over make-up and skirts that are too short or shirts that too revealing or curfews. Plus, this particular dress is getting small and we didn't have any special parties planned that require a pretty pink dress.

Addie C. is very creative, don't you think? I mean, I bet there are times when you have wanted to change your pretty dress to make it an original ... change the colour, or add some kind of embellishment. Addie C. is not the type of girl to wear a dress "off the rack" because  - and I think we can all agree on this - Addie C. Jones is an original. 

Jonesy and I told her how pretty she looked and she smiled her biggest smile again. So proud of herself. Then, I took her picture.



The back door slammed as she ran outside to torture her older sister. Me? I went back to stirring my spaghetti sauce, counting the minutes until bedtime.
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Addie C. Jones Can Chew Gum
Author: jill
•10:12 AM
When you are the third of three children, you always feel behind the others. They go to school, you do not. They get to stay up late, you do not. They can read, you cannot. And, they can chew gum ... but you are too little.

How do we know that Addie C. is too little to chew gum? Because we have tried ... and she always swallows it. The good news is that the length of time the gum is in her mouth (before swallowing it) has increased dramatically. For instance, the first time Addie C. tried gum, it remained in her mouth approximately thirty seconds before she announced it was gone. But now the time has grown to thirty minutes until we hear, "Uh-oh ... I swallowed it."

Do you remember the first time you tried gum? I don't. But I do remember my Grama giving me pieces of Juicy Fruit and Chiklits. Oh, how I love the little mutlicoloured Chiklits. I quickly graduated to bubble gum and I have very vivid memories of learning how to blow a bubble. I had the procedure down, but it took me a long time to master it. It was something that I had worked and worked on ... because I just had to do it. See? Even back then I made silly goals for myself. And I can even remember where I was when I finally did it. I also know that I could not have been more than five years old because we still lived at Rondeau Park. When I was three years old, my parents built a house there and we would live just outside the Provincial Park until I was almost six years old. Since there was only a corner store, we had to travel twenty or thirty minutes into Ridgetown for our groceries. So, on this particular day, I had twenty to thirty minutes to practice my bubble-blowing technique. In those days children did not have to sit in a car seat or a booster seat; in fact, they did not even have to wear a seat belt.

I am old, aren't I?

To tell you the truth, I probably had such a great view from the back seat because I was sitting on a case of empty beer bottles. Ha! Those were the days.

Anyhow, I can still see the road in my mind. We were just coming up to a big bend in the highway when it happened ... I blew a bubble with my bubble gum! I felt like I had really accomplished something. Something that I did all by myself, without any help from anyone.

So, when Addie C. kept bugging me for gum when "the big kids" had some, I could understand. She wanted to get it ... she wanted to learn to chew gum. And the only way to learn a skill (if that is what you want to call it) is to practice. So, every once in awhile, we give Addie C. a piece of gum and then wait to see what happens.
Last week, we gave her a piece of strawberry flavoured Bubblicious - cut in half. Because when you are a princess, you must have pink gum. And she chewed and she chewed and she chewed. In fact, she chewed for so long I finally had to force her to throw it away.

She did it! She chewed gum ... just like the big kids!! And she was so proud of herself.

"Daddy, guess what I did?" she said. Jonesy had a flash of fear go across his face because usually this question does not lead to anything good. But Addie C. continued the conversation before he really had any time to react. "I chewed gum ... for weel."

So, now every day she begs us for gum. Which is cool, but a whole new situation has arisen. She pulls the gum from her mouth, making the long string; she sticks her gum on the floor and then puts it back in her mouth; she rolls it into a ball between the palms of her hands and then puts it back into her mouth. Yesterday, she stuck it to a chair.

"Ummm ... Mommy, look at dis," Addie C. said. Again, this is not a great way to start a conversation with Addison because it usually means trouble.

"Oh," I said. "What is this? Do you know?" I used my finger to try and scrape the "stuff" off the seat of the computer chair.

"Yes," she giggles, chewing away on her strawberry flavoured Bubblicious. "Dats my gum."

"Isn't your gum in your mouth?" As if I don't already know the answer to my question.

"Yeah," she tells me. "Dats my gum and dis is my gum. I think it got stuck." She thinks it got stuck ...

Can you imagine sticking your gum to the seat of a chair ... even if it is in your own home ... and then putting it back in your mouth? Ugh.

So, I am waiting ... because I know the day will come when I am asked the question.

"Mommy, how do you blow a bubble with your gum?"

And, I will have an answer because I am an accomplished bubble gum bubble blower.
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Speed Baking with Addie C. Jones
Author: jill
•1:17 PM
Sometimes knowledge and skills in the culinary field come in handy at the strangest times. Like, in the shower.

The other day, I was taking a shower and Addie C. Jones was waiting her turn. She is not a child who likes to sit idly, nor is she particularly patient. She gets the impatient part from her Dad ... at least that's the story I'm going with. So, Addie C.  decided to do some cooking and baking from her make-shift kitchen - you might know it as a Jacuzzi tub. Both my girls have enjoyed using my Jacuzzi tub as a play centre ... sometimes they pretend they have a store, other times it is a kitchen, still other times it is a school.

Today it will be a kitchen, culinary home to Addie C. Jones, chef extraordinnaire.

"Mommy, how do you make apple pie? You tell me the gredients and the structions, okay?" Addie C. says as I am stepping in the shower. I agree, telling myself it would be an easy way to ensure I knew where she was.

"First, you must make the pie dough," I begin. "Mix together some flour and some vegetable shortening with a very small amount of water."

"Mix, mix, mix," she sings. "Okay, I'm done. Now, can I roll it?"

"Yes, that's right," I tell her, feeling a little excited that she has taken notice of what happens in the kitchen. I cannot help myself ... I peeked around the shower curtain. She has pulled down the rod used to open and close the window blinds, and she is using it as a rolling pin on her imaginary dough. I smile, and appreciate her resourcefulness as well as the fact that the dough is, in fact, imaginary.

"Now what?" Addie C. wants to know.

"Well, you need to peel and chop some apples," I instruct her.

"Peel, peel, peel. Chop, chop, chop," she sings. "Choppin's done. Now what is next."

"Mix in some sugar, a little flour, and some cinnamon."

"What was the last thing, Mommy?" she asks. "I couldn't hear you."

"Cinnamon."

"Oh, yes. I do love cin-min, don't I?" she comments. "Would you call me a cin-min girl?"

"Yes, you are definitely a cinnamon girl."

"Now, what do I do?" she asks.

"Pour the apple mixture into the pie dough. You put the pie dough into a baking pan, right?" I ask.

"A course," she replies. I hate getting attitude from four-year-olds. "Now, can I put it in the oben?"

"Yes, into the oven for about one hour," I explain, thinking that all bathroom cooking had come to an end.

"Ding!" Addie C. announces in her best oven-timer voice. "The pie is all ready. Can we make something else now?"

"Sure, what would like to make?" I ask, considering there was still lots of time until her turn in the shower. Who knew a whole pie could be prepared and baked in approximately one minute thirty seconds?

"How about ... soup!" she says.

"Excellent, because I love soup," I tell her. "What kind should we make?"

"Ummmmm ..." she thinks out loud. "I think tomato, celery and lemon."

For a brief moment, I felt like I was on the Food Network show, Chopped, where the chef contestants are given three or four "gredients" that do not easily go together and they must concoct a meal ... an appetizer, a main, and a dessert. They are given things like salmon filets, oatmeal, dill pickles and strawberries ... okay, now make a yummy main course dish.

I've got tomatoes, celery and lemons to work with. Not bad, but since she's got the method down, perhaps it is time to work a little on how foods compliment one another. There is always tomorrow's shower ...
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The Last
Author: jill
•9:31 PM
I can't believe I'll never do it again.

Today is the anniversary of the last time that I gave birth. That's right, it is Addie. C. Jones' birthday.

You might have assumed that I would tell you all about the birthday cake, and the look of surprise, and the presents, and the sweetness. And, I could tell you about those things because they all happened.

But I cannot stop thinking that I will never do it again. Give birth, that is. It is not to be taken for granted because not every woman gets the opportunity. Some choose to avoid it altogether. But not me, I would do it again in a minute ... it's the eighteen-month through three-and-a-half-year-old stage that I would choose to give up.

Giving birth invokes a feeling you just cannot get anywhere else in life, in my opinion. Truly. I often joke that I would rather give birth than hold a yard sale; and that is true. I would rather give birth than do a lot of things. I would rather give birth than deal with the two closets upstairs that are waiting for me ... honestly. It is the most incredible experience that I have been a part of. It cannot be duplicated, and each one is unique in its own way. Everyone has their own story, right? It is something that you do, by yourself, but with your child. Nobody else. Mother and child work in unison to bestow the gift of life. 

I am a lover of all babies ... little ones, chubby ones, even the not-so-cute ones. I would very happily sit for hours and hold a baby ... in fact, when Caiden was new and I had the luxury of time, I did so ALL THE TIME.

When I was eight years old, my Uncle and Aunt had their first baby ... a little boy named Perry. I loved him as if he were my own. My Grampa loved to tell the story of the time he dropped my Grama and me off for a visit, leaving just as baby Perry was placed on my lap. Grampa returned two hours later, to find Perry and I still sitting comfortably in that same chair. There was no television on, or music playing, just me sitting with this sweet little bundle enjoying my time with him. Of course, it never dawned on me that perhaps my Grama would like a turn to hold him ... I can be a baby hog. Ask anyone who knows me.

So, it is sad for me to think that I will not have another little baby to sit and stare at, and rock, and smother with love. My uterus is aching. Jonesy is shaking his head. My body says "no more" ...

But still, I can't believe I will never do it again.

Happy Birthday, my sweet little Addie C. Jones.

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Addie C. Jones and the Art Project
Author: jill
•9:30 AM
Recently, Caiden has shown an interest in art. How images are drawn, by hand or computer generated; colour combinations; he looks at Renoir or drawings of SpongeBob. He has a natural curiosity that is never satisfied. So, for his birthday this year, I got him some art supplies. A poster size sketch book, along with his own "artist" pencil crayons, oil pastels and charcoal. I wanted him to have some different mediums to experiment with. He loves it ... especially the charcoal.

Charcoal is really cool to use when drawing/sketching. It can produce a strong, bold line or it can be used for shading. Caiden likes to draw something and then rub his hands in the charcoal ... all over the page ... and his clothes ... and the bathroom sink. It is very messy; and in retrospect, perhaps, not my most intelligent shopping decision. But I wanted him to experience something new and interesting. And anyway, who said I do things the easy way?

Which brings me to the other morning.

I needed a few minutes to blow dry my hair; so I suggested that Addie C. find something to keep herself busy, and then we would go downstairs and make some lunch. Now, let's just stop at this point for a moment because there are a couple of things to address. First, I would like to point out the obvious ... that it is never a good idea to suggest an almost four-year-old little girl, who has a propensity to find trouble anyway, "find something to keep herself busy." This was just stupid on my part. The second point that needs to be mentioned is that because my hair is so long right now, she knew I would be otherwise occupied for quite a few minutes. My hair is ridiculously long; Caiden measured the length once and reported it to be twenty inches long ... not sure if that is correct, but I wouldn't mess with him and numbers. Anyhow, it takes ten to fifteen minutes to blow it dry ... so she had ten to fifteen minutes of free time ... to find something to keep herself busy.

When Addie C. heard the blow dryer click "off," she sauntered into the bathroom. Sweet smile on her face. I knew something was up.

"Hello, Mommy," she starts. "So ... what are we gonna do today?"

I notice there is something dark on the palms of her hands and ask what it is. She, of course, tries to hide them, look of terror on her face. I discover it is charcoal, and take off running into Caiden's room. Afraid of what I will find.

What I find is a drawing on the carpet ... with charcoal. Now, from an artist's perspective, I might like to point out that she has used strong bold lines and some nice shading, especially for an almost four-year-old ... who has a propensity to find trouble. But I am not an artist ... I am a mother. A very unhappy mother.

Addie C. immediately bursts into tears, full of regret. The thing that I truly do not understand, is that she knew it was wrong when she did it. But she did it anyway. And then she feels bad about doing it. So, when the idea crosses her mind ... to draw with the impossible-to-remove charcoal on the carpet in her brother's bedroom ... does she just lose all other thought process? Or, are they (the almost four-year-olds with a propensity to find trouble, that is) unable to look past the immediate gratification of doing something enjoyable? I believe Freud would remind me that children at this stage are ruled by the ID ... Addie C. is strongly ruled by the ID. I continue to hope that the SUPEREGO will get to work soon!!

The thing is ... I really like the picture. The little girl is darling ... something about the eyes and the big smile. I wish it was on paper ... because I would put it away in her memory box with all the other special art projects she has given to me. But this project ... I have to figure out how to remove.

Any ideas?


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Addie C. Jones and her Big Brother Husband
Author: jill
•1:48 PM
"I think I'm gonna marry Caiden tomowow," Addie C. told me the other day, as she jumped up and down on the couch, watching me make her lunch.

"Well, you can't marry your brother," I try to explain. She looks bewildered.

"But ... I want to," Addie C. continues, "because I love him."

And she does. A lot.

I studied about Freud's Oedipus Complex when I was in University. Basically, it involves a child's unconscious desire to possess the parent of the opposite sex. Jonesy and I have watched our kids move through this stage in the past, and Addie C. is right on schedule.

She loves hangin' out with the boys, trying to get them to laugh or look her way. "Daddy is gonna love this dress," or "Wait 'til Daddy this shirt ... he's gonna flip out!" are often the first things I hear in the morning. Addie C. waits not very patiently for TT to get home from school. When Addison was learning to talk, she couldn't say Caiden; she said TT. And the nickname has stuck because now we all refer to him as TT or T. As the time for the bus draws nearer, she often spends those last few minutes of quiet trying to think of things he'd like to play with her. And, then the minute her TT comes through the door, she is by his side, begging for attention. 

The thing is ... he doesn't really want to play with her. He is eight years old (practically a man) and most often annoyed by her antics to get his attention. He does not enjoy watching The Mickey Mouse Clubhouse with her, and hates that she wants to be with him all the time. Occasionally he takes pity on her and he will play with his little sister, drawing her into his imagination. This is when she just glows ... until she does not do things the way he demands and then the fun is over. When he choses to do something without her though, she is forced to play with her new bestfriend, Shadow. Now, Shadow first came to keep her company when she was in bed, with the nightlight on. Addie C. would read a story to her baby and her new friend, Shadow. But then she realized that, under the right conditions, Shadow would come out to play during the daytime, too. Until her big brother stomps on poor Shadow as he walks by ... on his way to do something that does not involve Addie C.

I was not aware that the Oedipus Complex could be extended to siblings. Marnie was truly enamoured with her Daddy, but she was not as devoted to her brother as little Addie C. has been. Marnie begged to go to the store with her Dad, play music with him, barbeque with him, do anything with him. On a few occasions, she even chose to stay with him when I went out to grab some groceries. I was heart-broken ... how could my sweet girl abandon me? Shopping was some of our "girly" time together ... occasionally lunch in a restaurant was involved. She wanted to give all that up, to sit around and watch College football on Saturday? I don't get it!!

But, it was short lived because she is all mine again. And, I know Addie C. will return to the "Jones Girls Rule" team soon. But in the meantime, it is hysterical to watch her in action, insisting on gaining her brother's affection and making her Daddy laugh.

And so, the conversation continues.

"Addie, you cannot marry your brother," I tell her. "You'll have to find another man to marry you. Someone who is not your brother." Tears spring to her eyes.

"Okay," she concedes, her head hung low. Suddenly, her head snaps up, those little eyes sparkling again; she has an idea. "What about Daddy? Can I marry him?"
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Lessons Learned Shopping with Addie C. Jones
Author: jill
•3:15 PM

At Christmas time this year, my children were introduced to some friends of their Grama and Grampa Jones. As a special treat, one friend, who became known as The Money Man because my girls can never remember his name, gave each of the kids five dollars to spend however they chose. We tucked the money away for something to do on a boring, snowy day. As it turns out, this past Saturday, although not snowy, was indeed very boring. Marnie woke up ready to spend her five dollars.

After some thought, I suggested we check out Dollarama. Look, I know it is stuff for a dollar, but when you are a little girl, it doesn't really matter where you get your stickers from. It just matters that you get the stickers. There are lots of crafty supplies at Dollarama and I assumed she would pick up five crafty supplies. But what do I know? She selected a little hair stylist kit, complete with a pretend hairdryer and lots of pretty things for Barbie's hair; and she also got a little purse set. But she is like her mother because she went for the high-end stuff ... two bucks for each set. However, her father has had some influence as well because she was quick and decisive in her shopping endeavour. We were in and out of there on Saturday afternoon in five minutes flat.

When we arrived home with Marnie's treasures, we were met with tears of disbelief from a little sister. I quickly explained that I was planning to take her shopping when the big kids went back to school on Monday. So, on Monday morning I was greeted bright and early by a three-year-old, completely dressed in beautiful shopping attire, asking if we could go to the store immediately.

"Can I give the lady my money when we pay? Like a big girl?" Addie asked while we drove over to Dollarama. I assured her she could, enjoying the excitment that a shopping trip could generate in such a little girl. And they all like to hand over the cash, don't they? Marnie wanted to do the same thing ...

I soon learned that when shopping with Addie, you must check each item in the store before a final decision can be made. And I don't mean strolling up and down the aisles, just taking in the sights. I am pretty sure she touched every single thing she could reach in the store.

"And, what's dis?" she would ask, turning the item over in her little fingers.

The thing about little kids is that they don't care about the price tag, and they don't care if it says Armani on the side or "made in China" on the bottom. Whether she had a million dollars or one dollar, she was going to take the time to make the right decision. Which involved knowing all her options before a final decision could be reached.

Sometimes, a girl just knows and other times, she needs try things on. As in the case of the slippers. Addison loves shoes ... alot. She wears them all the time and even sleeps in them. I have written about the problem before. So, I'm sure you can understand that the shopping trip came to a halt in front of the slippers. She must have tried on ten different pairs of one dollar slippers, most of which were too big for her. But you just don't know 'til you try ... even if your Mom tries to tell you.

The first item finally selected, we made our way a little further down the aisle and the slippers were quickly tossed aside for a pair of pink (imitation) crocs. And so our shopping trip at Dollarama went until we had the crocs, a little plastic purse filled with all kinds of cool stuff and a Valentine's Day Heart charm to clip onto the little purse. And as promised, she handed the clerk her money just like a big girl. She got one cent back in change.

On our way home, she chattered happily about her purchases.

"But you know what the best part is?" she asked me.

"No, Addie. What is the best part?" I asked.

"Daddy will be happy at me 'cause the lady gave me some money back, that's what," she explained.

She probably has a point there ... Why? 'Cause Mommy doesn't often do that, that's why.
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Addie C. Jones and the Flowering Beads
Author: jill
•9:54 PM
Have you met Addie C. Jones? I swear she is a clone of the popular children's series hero, Junie B. Jones. They both stomp their feet when they're angry, they both wear some crazy clothes and they both get into a lot of mischief. But luckily, only one of them lives at my house.

We just started reading this series at my house, but with each chapter I read to the girls, it seems like I am reading about my little Addison. Honestly ... Junie B.'s mannerisms, her use of language, her crazy ideas ... it's all Addie. In Junie B. Jones and a Little Monkey Business, Junie B. accepts gifts from her friends in exchange for being the first one to see her new baby brother until an all-out bidding war is taking place on the school playground. Addison Claire would do this ... she would take gifts from kids in exchange for a glimpse of her new baby brother. Of course, if Addison had a new baby brother she may have to take gifts to raise the funds for her mother's weekly therapy sessions.

Anyhow, today I am feeling like some kind of distinguished Super Heroine. I have put away three loads of laundry, while number four and five are in the washer and dryer, respectively. I baked a little snack cake with a caramel topping. I got some good news about my blog and I did a little reading. And, I made homemade (from scratch) turkey pot pies. That is when the trouble began.

As I was chopping and bubbling away in the kitchen, Addie C. came in and asked for two bottles of water.

"Why?" I asked. "Why do you need two bottles of water?"

" 'Cause I'm growin' flowers," she explains. What a sweet little thing, pretending to grow flowers in the wintertime. She wants to bring a little sunshine to us, I think to myself.

"Just for pretend, right Addie?" I answer for her. "You may use two empty bottles."

"No, I just wanted some water," she insists.

"Well, no," I insist. "We cannot grow flowers in the house."

"Oh, okay," she says. "Let's take them outside and grow them then."

"Well, it's too cold today, but maybe we can do that in the Spring," I suggest. She seems to think this is a good idea and wandered off, singing happily, leaving me to continue with the chopping and the bubbling and the stirring.

A couple of hours later, Big Sister Marnie arrives home from school and goes to check on the status of her room. Marnie does this everyday to ensure that everything is just as she left it this morning. Today, there is a high-pitched scream when she reaches the top of the stairs, followed by sobbing.

Addie C. Jones has been growing flowers in Marnie's bedroom. Marnie received a craft project from her Nana as a Christmas gift. It has little itty, bitty beads; lots and lots of little itty, bitty beads. Itty bitty beads that look like seeds, as it turns out. The little red beads seeds have been sprinkled around on the carpet. Now, as luck might have it, the Easter Bunny was nice enough to bring the cutest little gardening set for each of the girls last year. So, fortunately, there was a watering can nearby and the carpet had been watered to ensure the flowers would grow really big. I am still not entirely sure where the water came from but I suspect there is no water left in Marnie's bedside glass. Then a little glitter powder had been added for good measure. 'Cause what are bead flowers without the glitter?


Honestly, she is really sweet. For instance, just today, Addie C. told me that when her birthday comes she wants to buy new earrings for her big sister. Now, even though she just wants to replace the ones that she lost down the bathroom sink, that is still really nice. Don't you think?

I felt it my duty, as her mother, to attach this photo taken a couple of weeks ago. We told her that we were going to a restaurant to celebrate the Christmas Holidays, and that it was important to put on something pretty to wear. This is how she presented herself, feeling as pretty as a princess. Mean 'ol Daddy, put his foot down, explaining there was a "No Pyjamas" rule at the restaurant. So, she had to settle for a cute little jean skirt and a warm wintry shirt.

I guess I forgot one other thing I did today - I also cleaned up a flower garden. So, what did you do?
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