Random Thursday: Music, Sex, and Cookies. And Richard III

The astoundingly clever, wise, and preternaturally hip Jim McDonald has posted his suggestions for “Fifty Ways to Plot Your Novel” over at Making Light.

I dare you not to sing along.


Sunny is now completely used to being the only child. She dances and sings and changes the channel with great gusto and flourishing of the remote, which she rarely gets a chance to touch: “Watch this, Mommy!”

She’s also choosing a different chair at every meal—she took mine at breakfast this morning—and insists on deciding which vegetables we’re going to have for dinner.

“What’ll it be tonight, kid?”
“Cupcakes are not vegetables.”
“Oh. Can we have pie?”
“Pie is not a vegetable, either.”
“Can we have fruit?”
“In pie?”

Okay, that last line was my husband’s, as he passed through the kitchen.  I almost nailed him with a bag of frozen peas,*  but she thought it was a great idea.

She’s also spoken more in the past two days than she has in the previous two weeks. My husband says she’s probably enjoying the novelty of being able to finally get a word in edgewise, so she’s getting all of them in while she can.

Janie called yesterday to check in and then abandoned us for more interesting things, so we talked to Dad. We asked him how she was behaving.

“Like an eight-year old,” he said. “No, it’s okay. We’ve dealt with those before.”



We had a reverse Amber Alert today in the library — we knew where the child was, but the parents were missing. Actually, they were waiting for their daughter outside the restroom, because she had wanted to go all by herself. She slipped past them and found our department on an entirely different floor.

She was worried, but very brave. And she was not going to cry.**

It was a brief incident that ended in a happy reunion, but I still called Sunny’s daycare to see how she was doing.***

And later, I watched one of our youngest patrons do his stop-motion crawling act across our floor, beaming with happiness while his Mommy grinned and read to his sister.

It helped.


And finally, Clarence’s speech from Richard III, as performed by . . . everyone:

Personally, I don’t know why everyone makes Christopher Walken so high-pitched—he’s not a basso profundo by any means, but he doesn’t whine.


*See?  Plants vs. Zombie’s is useful in Real Life.™

** Though I might have misted up a little, as she was escorted back upstairs, holding my co-worker’s hand.

***She was napping with her yellow bunny, which I’m sure was fully as cute as that sounds.