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11 Apr


We spent a lot of time, last week, talking about science. Which is maybe not what you would expect children to talk about during a week at Disney World, but there it is. Much of the initial discussion was provoked, of course, by Emilia’s very interesting hypothesis concerning the function and character of wishes in the Disney universe – a hypothesis that Tanner appreciated deeply, but that he felt raised further questions about wishes and about the nature of all things existing within that universe. Would all wishes come true at Disney World? A quick test – a declared wish to have ice cream for all meals – quickly confirmed that hypothesis false. And if that hypothesis was false, what did that mean for other Disney hypotheses?

2 Apr

A Hypothesis Is A Wish Your Brain Makes

‘Mommy, I have a hypothesis.’

Emilia is on a science kick right now. ‘What kind of hypothesis, sweetie?’

‘It’s about Disney World.’

‘Okay. Do you want to tell me what it is?’

‘My hypothesis is that Disney World is where dreams come true.’

‘That’s a very interesting hypothesis.’

‘I think it’s a true hypothesis because Tanner wished that we could go to Disney World together and have a family holiday there, and we’re going, and that was his wish.’

‘That is excellent science, sweetie.’

‘But we haven’t actually tested the hypothesis, Mommy, because we aren’t there yet.’ You will have to imagine her exasperated tone here. Clearly, I don’t understand science.

9 Feb

Things That Are Awesome, Random Wednesday In February Edition

Things that are awesome:

1.) Being asked to open Disney On Ice / Toy Story 3 On Ice – in a tutu – and knowing that a portion of ticket sales will be donated to Parent Project Muscular Dystrophy in Tanner’s name. I’m probably going to cry, which is going to be disorienting, you know, what with me being under spotlights in a stadium while on ice skates and all. (I don’t actually know if I’m going to be on skates. I will be on ice, so it’s what you’d expect, but you never know. Maybe I’ll fly in on the Tinkerbell wire. That would probably be safer.) (You should totally come. And wear a tutu. And cheer, loud, and pretend to not notice if I do, in fact, burst into tears.)

2.) This photo.

21 May


fortyIt’s my birthday. I’m forty years old today. Forty years old. Isn’t this the birthday where I get canes and bifocals as gag gifts and t-shirts that say things like I’m not old, I’m vintage and at least one coffee mug with the words lordy, lordy look who’s forty printed along the side?

I’m not old enough to be forty. Really, I’m not. It’s not that I fear aging or think that anyone over forty is hideously uncool – it’s that I just cannot believe that I am grown-up enough to have the numbers 4 and 0 apply to me in any context other than grade point averages. I’m not a grown-up; I’m a girl in a state of arrested adolescence. Sure, I have kids, but if anything that has only driven the point home more clearly: ain’t nobody here but us childrens.