When OmegaDotter was freshly home, she contracted pneumonia and got tossed in the hospital for three days. While we were there, a candy-striper came by and offered her a selection of teddy bears to choose from. We chose the biggest, squishiest teddy bear, one that was almost as big as she was. When all was well with the dotter, we happily returned home, bear in hands.
Bear was named "Big Bear", which morphed into "BB", which changed to "Bubby". Bubby is a well-loved companion; he has matted hair here and there, and has journeyed on vacations with us.
Recently, Bubby has been christened something else.
Bubby is now "Sister".
Sister has to be dressed in the morning, in one of the dotter's shirts.
Sister has to sit at her own little table, with lots of dinner accoutrements, when we eat dinner.
Sister has to be taken to school in the car (though Sister, luckily enough, goes to a different school, and mom "drops her off" after dropping OmegaDotter off at preschool, and "picks her up" before picking up OmegaDotter in the evenings.
The dotter and Sis go everywhere. When OD wants to help with something, Sis has to be carefully placed somewhere to watch. When mom plays Candyland with OD, Sis gets to play, too.
Sis and OD play at going to bed and being woken up.
It took quite a bit to persuade the dotter that Sis didn't go in the bathtub with her, but had a special way to take a bath, in the washing machine.
When I ask the dotter a question, Sis usually has to be included.
It's all very charming.
The dotter called me a "numbskull" this evening. It was well-deserved: I was a Bad Mommy. Today was the first day of ballet after the winter break. Today was also the day I had to upload files to our financial system. Today's file had to include a bunch of missed transactions. Every time I ran the program, I found one last, little thing that needed to be fixed. Next thing I knew, it was 5:50 p.m. Dotter's ballet class starts at...sigh...6:00. It takes me ten minutes to get to Dotter's preschool. It takes her ten minutes to dress up for ballet. It takes us ten minutes to get to ballet.
*Poof* went ballet tonight. Mommy is wracked with guilt. The dotter, amazingly enough, aside from calling me a "numbskull", is in high spirits.
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