I had to explain to Bobbie that just because a top and bottom are both plaid, that doesn't mean they go together. Then I had her go lay on the couch so her sister could take a picture and show her just how bad plaids can clash. (She's holding that pillow because I told her to grab one of the plaid pillows, in the interest of having as many clashing patterns as possible.)So she has no fashion sense, but that's okay; I'd really rather it be this way. She is rushing headlong into puberty, but if I can concentrate most of her efforts on her hair instead of her clothes, things will stay cheap for a while.
She is still doing well in school. The one she attends now has clubs available for the older kids to participate in, and she is proudly in robotics. Much better than dance or drama, even though I think she would have excelled in the latter.
I would like it known for the record that I did not pick out this furniture. I don't do patterns on my clothes for the most part; I sure wouldn't want them on my furniture, but for a while there we were apparently playing a game of "Let's see how pissed off we can make Sabra without her actually throwing things." (Actually, I am fairly certain we are still playing this game, and I am very tempted to see if actually throwing stuff will prompt anyone to pay attention. But I doubt it.)Anyway, this is supposed to be about the kids. Linda can be found in a posture similar to this most afternoons. She makes me very glad for the concept of free e-books, because she can go through one a day. I have not yet been able to persuade her to read Dracula, however. Well, I couldn't appreciate that book as a child either, so there's that.
Again with the furniture! I know this isn't much of a photo, because Ro is apparently doing her impression of the Wicked Witch of the East (or whichever cardinal point got killed at the beginning of The Wizard of Oz). But it's too funny to pass up. When this child wants to nap, she will nap. She takes a nap pretty much daily, in fact, and is nearly as much of a bear when she skips it as Marie is when she skips hers.
Here is another picture. I might be able to get normal looking pictures of this child if I tried hard enough, but why would I? This sort of thing shows who she is so much better than any posed picture could ever hope to.She will be seven at the end of this month, something I find very hard to believe. An online friend mentioned at the beginning of the school year that in her mind Esther is always a toddler. I told her it was okay, because I feel just the same. She is a quite petite child (which is funny, as she was 8lb 2oz and 23" long at birth--still my longest, although not heaviest, newb), and for the longest time was the "baby" of the family. She still comes and climbs into bed a few nights a week, and I'd be lying if I didn't say I'll miss it once it stops. She's still my snake-and-bat girl too, which keeps me happy.
A view almost like this one is what prompted this blog post. MeMe in repose. (We call her that, by the way, because it's what she calls herself.)I do not think she has any real clue she's about to become a big sister and not the baby. I have told her she is getting a baby for her birthday, of course, and had her feel the kicks and whatnot, but she's too young, I think, to truly comprehend.
But that's okay. I reckon she will adjust as quickly as her older sisters did. She is a very smart child, and very caring.
She's also potty trained. I will admit, I did not think it would go very well. It had been a long time since I potty trained Esther, and I honestly forgot how to do it for the most part. I don't claim a lot of credit, here. Marie just decided one Saturday that she was done with diapers. That was it. I think she had one accident since then, and that was that. No accidents when we're out, even. Easier than her sisters. And younger--she was only 22 months when she did this. I have successfully moved down the age of potty training with every single kid.
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