Catherine loves dinosaurs. You already knew that if you have been in her presence for at least two minutes in the last year. She was playing with her large dinosaur floor-puzzle the other day, wishing that she could visit the land of the dinosaurs, that she could get inside her puzzle. Bethany and Gwen encouraged her imagination by producing a magic rock and telling her that this rock could get her there. All she had to do was toss the rock onto the puzzle, close her eyes and jump in.
Picture this with me ladies and gents, Catherine gazing at the prehistoric landscape potrayed in her puzzle, at the savage beasts roaming the land, yearning with all her four-year old heart to be there. She gives the rock a toss. It lands near a triceratops. She closes her eyes tight, clenches her fists and concentrates for a moment, her body shaking with the effort. She takes a deep breath and hops. There is a pause, she opens her eyes, looks around, sees me still in the kitchen, her sisters still in the same room, and realizes that she has not traveled back in time billions of years; she is only standing on her puzzle.
"We-ode," (weird, without the R) she says puzzled.
"It didn't work." Seriously folks, she fully expected to open her eyes face to face with a ten ton three-horn. When Matthew & I snickered at her child-like faith, she burst into tears. Poor Cate. I don't think finding out the truth about Santa Claus will even come close to her heartache that day.
Catherine loves dinosaurs. You already knew that if you have been in her presence for at least two minutes in the last year. She was playing with her large dinosaur floor-puzzle the other day, wishing that she could visit the land of the dinosaurs, that she could get inside her puzzle. Bethany and Gwen encouraged her imagination by producing a magic rock and telling her that this rock could get her there. All she had to do was toss the rock onto the puzzle, close her eyes and jump in.
5 comments:
Poor, poor little Cate!
We-ode, indeed.
(We still copy Gwen when she used to say "I don't yike it.")
Give my little Cate a kiss from me.
Poor Cate. Real life just sucks! I wonder how welcoming she thinks those dinosaurs would really be to that wonderful little girl.
During a recent visit, Catherine pulled me aside. Glancing carefully around (obviously to see if there were any unbelievers nearby), she whispered:
"Hawwy Pottoo is we-oe."
Hang on as long as you can, sweet little Catherine!
Come to the land of the two-horn and we'll roam the land together!
(Ok, so they're just goats, but they do have horns.)
Love you all!
P.S. I remember working with one of my children so that they could say their r's. When the w's were finally replaced by the clear r's, I missed the w's. I almost cried.
That is sooo sad. I think she will be tramautized. My own mother did something similar. She told me the pimple in the middle of her forehead was her unicorn horn and I fully believed her when she said I would get one too because I was a unicorn. I will never forget the disappoint (not really-it's a fun story). I love that your daughters are loving enough to come up with the rock and love even more how much Cate believed it-if only we all still believed like that when we grow older (I will never "grow up").
Cate reminds me of Rachel so much when she was little. She came home from Kindergarten one day and asked me for a dollar so she could show me a magic trick she saw at an assembly that day. SHe folded it up the way she saw the magic guy do it, said "tada" and scrunched up her yiddle face and tried again when it didn't work. after 3 tries and failures she handed me the dollar and shook her head and said "I guess I'm not magic" she was so disappointed. She really thought she was for a little while. or when peter pan from the scera theatre gave jacob some gold and silver confetti and told him he'd share his magic fairy dust with him and I caught Jacob throwing it up in the air a couple days later and jumping off the bed and finding himself disappointingly on the floor.....
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