Pretty Pretty Picture

Alli has found her inner artist. She has begun coloring, and coloring, and coloring. She colors as soon as she gets up in the morning, she colors as I sit and teach Elijah every day (it's my school, she says), and she colors before and after supper and would color in bed at night if we allowed it.

Don't misunderstand me, I love that she is so fond of this exercise. It has helped her learn more names of colors (like pwurpish-pink) and it keeps her occupied quietly for hours. The problem occurs when I must keep every picture she finishes. There are hundreds now, maybe thousands. And anyone who knows me at all knows my OCD nature and my severe allergic reaction to clutter.

So all this background information leads me to the exchange I had with my sweet daughter the other night after dinner:

I was cleaning up and wiping off the island and I picked up a half-sheet coloring sheet and absent-mindedly threw it in the garbage right in front of my daughter. She instantly opened the garbage can, peered inside and said (in her sweet 3 year old voice),

"Why you frow away my pretty piture?"

And I'm not exaggerating when I say she had tears in her eyes. So of course I quickly rescued it from the trash heap and promptly displayed it on the refrigerator. And all malice was forgotten.

I guess I'm going to have to learn to deal with the piles of her art. And she'll have ample reason to suffer later in life when she is starving for her craft and she remembers that her Mom used to throw her masterpieces in the garbage.

90 Years and Counting

Is it any indication how busy our life has been when I am just now getting around to blogging pictures of events at the beginning of August?

Anyhoo, my mom and my great aunt Imo both celebrated their birthdays on the same day at the beginning of August. Imo is my grandmother's sister, and since my grandmother died while I was still very young, and Imo never married, she became like a grandmother to me. She lived 85 years of her life in Kentucky, and moved to Illinois 5 years ago to be closer to her family, my mom and my uncle.

Imo celebrated her 90th birthday last month, which calls for a party like it's 1999.
Doesn't she look beautiful? I hope I'm this gorgeous at 90, although I don't expect to live that long.

My mom is gorgeous, too. She turned 60, but the poor woman's birthday has always been overshadowed by Imo's. There is no love lost, though, because my mom dislikes the spotlight. She would rather enjoy a quiet dinner with her family, which she got.

My dad and I matched, even without planning it. He looks so handsome when he smiles, I only wish he was a bit more in focus in this picture.

This is Imo's "what you talkin' 'bout, Willis?" face. I'm not sure what my Mom said to deserve that look!

My great aunt has always been a magnificent seamstress and quilter. She is awfully proud that I have taken up the mantle. I made this table runner for her, hoping her eyesight keeps her from being able to pick out all the mistakes.

Imo desperately wanted a picture of Allison in her lap with this doll nearly as old as herself. She has a similar picture of me and the doll when I was a bit older than Alli. This doll is better dressed than your average doll. Imo has made all of her clothes and changes her dresses monthly. She sits posed on her bed during the day and it is one of the things Alli always goes running for when we visit.

It was so nice to be able to celebrate Imo's birthday with her. She was proud to have made it to 90, but gave strict instructions not to say or sing, "and many more." I guess you can say that when you get to that age. Either way, I secretly hope she's around for many more celebrations!