Strawberry Dances Forever

My three-year-old daughter, Belle, loves to sing and dance about pine cones and strawberries. She composed it all herself.

When I clapped for her performance, she said, “You’re welcome.”

I’d like to think she enjoys singing because of me. After all, I’ve been singing to her every night before bed. Yet these days she says, “Please, Daddy, can you not sing?”

Only took her three years to figure out Daddy played drums in school.

Nice Taste
On Christmas, Belle tried to talk her little brother Johnny into giving her all his presents. She’d look at her brother’s gift and rationalize, “That’s my present because it’s red and I’ve got red on my dress!”

Johnny outfoxed her. Remember that VW auto commercial where the guy wants the car in the lot so much that he’s willing to lick the handle of the door so other customers won’t want it?

Johnny licked his presents so Belle wouldn't want them. It worked.

One Flu Over the Cuckoo's Nest
I felt lugubrious this Christmas when Belle got the flu. At one point, she winced and said, “Daddy, I have the angries in my tummy.”

After about 24 hours, she said, “Daddy, can I paint?”

“No,” I said. “Your brother is awake and he’ll lick the paint.”

“Can you put my brother to bed?”

“It’s 10 a.m.," I said. "I guess you’re feeling better.”