{Day 21} :: An Accomplished Girl

We recently read the chapter called, "An Accomplished Girl." She was all ears: An accomplished girl knows how to keep house. She can make beds, sweep, mop and dust. She can launder her own clothes and mend them when necessary. She is able to cook tasty, nourishing meals. (Yes, Cinderella comes to mind.)

My girl seemed a bit daunted at first. But she really perked up on the cooking part. "I can make cookies!" She reflected for a minute. "I bet I could make a whole dinner by myself, too."

I thought this over and realized that she probably could. I'd just never given her a chance. Yes, she's helped me. She's the best olive slicer in town. But she's never taken on the main course without my hands taking over.

Tonight I took my hands away, stepped aside and only gave verbal assistance when needed. My girl rose to the occasion and whipped up some pretty tasty tacos.

We sat around the table as she served each of us. I marveled at the young lady who had tackled a cast iron skillet with ease and kept multiple tasks going at once.

We all agree that she's well on her way to becoming quite an accomplished young lady.

Have you stepped back recently? Are you surprised by your child's ability? Give it a try!

Read about the thirty-one day challenge over here.

Ain't We Got Fun?

The other night at the dinner table, Little Miss Avery Kate ranked our family members according to funniness. I was a tad nervous to hear the results. Daddy, of course, was the funniest one of all. I've forgotten the ranking of the others, but I certainly haven't forgotten mine: Last. Dead last. I'm the least funny person in the Lawson home. Leave it to a five-year-old to tell it like it is.

I figured I'd try and gauge her system. "So Daddy is super, super, super funny, Aidan is super funny . . . and Mommy is just regular funny?" This was not her system. She wrinkled her brow and looked at me as though I was terribly misinformed. "You're not funny."

Oh. Not funny at all.

I'm slowly recovering from the blow. It still rankles a bit. She wasn't being mean. Indeed, I get frequent reminders that I'm her "best mommy ever!" I'm just not a "funny" mommy. But aren't "best mommies" supposed to be just a little bit funny? Maybe they're not necessarily supposed to make weird noises or quote Nacho Libre with flawless accents, but still. Ain't we got fun?

This weekend, I got my chance to be a fun mom. Jamie took the boys out for the evening. Inspired by a couple of friends who are super creative when it comes to pampering their daughters (hello, Heidi and Kelly), I decided that we would have our very own, at-home spa night. I really built it up. And they were excited.

A bubble bath was first on the agenda. The lights were dimmed, and I served the girls ice water as they soaked in the tub, surrounded by candles and classical music. Doesn't that sound nice? You would think so. But you're forgetting about Miss Kate. "I don't like this music. I want Bach." We listened to Bach.

I asked if the girls would like a towel rolled behind their necks and brought in dishes of sliced strawberries. Doesn't that sound nice? You would think so. But you're forgetting about Miss Kate. "I just wanna play. Like a real bath." I eventually convinced her of the merits of a relaxed soak.



I wrapped their little heads in towels and escorted them downstairs for massages, manicures, and a movie. We started a cute Shirley Temple film . . . . "I don't like this movie." (We watched Little Women instead.) I massaged their arms and legs with lavender body lotion, I painted their nails a dark color, and I put Avery's hair in sponge rollers, Bethie's in french braids so they could wake up in the morning with lovely hairdos.



For the grand finale we enjoyed strawberries dipped in chocolate. Bethie was aglow. And Miss Kate, you ask? Well . . . . Maybe I wasn't quite clear with her in the beginning about what a spa night would entail. She found it to be . . . lacking. "Where's the other stuff? I thought you said we were gonna do lots of stuff."

I was under the impression that we had done lots of stuff. I was also under the impression that we had fun. Actually, we did have fun. It was a wonderful, girlie kind of night. I bet even Miss Kate herself would not be opposed to taking part in another spa night sometime (assuming certain criteria were met . . . .)

So maybe I'm not a "funny" mom. Not funny at all. But that doesn't mean I can't be fun, right? I'm working at it. (If the zip line isn't proof, then I'm sunk.) In an attempt to increase my fun-ness, I would love to hear from you. How are you a "fun" parent to your kids? What makes them laugh? Are you a wild and crazy mom? I need some ideas. And quick. Miss Kate is starting to cry.