One of my favorite pics of Liv napping. For more info, read my Flickr description.

Naps have amazing, restorative powers.

Livia gave up napping at 3.5 years. I nearly wept in despair and wondered how I could possibly fill our days with activities and not perish in exhaustion from the effort. Yes, we did institute a quiet time before she gave up naps. (It was something that we worked into our days with persistence and a fair amount of battling; quiet times definitely didn’t come naturally around here!) I found myself nodding off during an afternoon movie or pushing for a brief respite during those supposedly “quiet” times. And though it was obvious to anyone around us that Liv would benefit from a nap, the kid just wouldn’t do it. I think the saying “You can take a horse to water but you can’t make it drink” fits perfectly here. I could enforce a room-only policy, but there was no way I could make my daughter close her eyes and relax.

The strangest thing has happened this summer, though. Livia has started napping again. She’ll go into quiet time, mess around with toys for awhile, and then the house grows oddly quiet. No tambourine clashes blast through the door, no storytelling to dollies, no dawdling trips to the bathroom, nothing.

Aaaaaaahhhhh.

Naptime. Sweet, sweet sleep, available to Liv, to me, and to Jeremy if he’s on his lunch break.

Napping has it’s rewards we’ve since learned. Liv is much gentler, less dramatic, more enjoyable and friendlier after naptime. She tends to avoid the pre-dinner meltdown and also has energy for a late-evening walk around the neighborhood. The real kicker is, if we keep the naps to an hour or less, she’s still ready to go to bed at a decent time. It’s a win-win situation.

Now if only we can convince American businesses to commit to siestas… I think it’d be a positive cultural change, don’t you? : )

This is a posed shot. Posed by Livia who has been interested in microphones her entire life. No one who knows this child is surprised she has a microphone in her hand. I’m wondering what God has planned for this one.

One day last week Livia wasn’t looking so hot, so I asked her how she felt. “Crumbly” was her response. (I told her I was crummy the other day. Ha!)

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Liv, explaining why she used the word “butt” in a conversation (when she knows I like the word “bottom” better):

I used “butt” because I like it. It starts with a B and has an S. And [shrug] it’s kinda funky.

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On when she’ll be allowed to light more dangerous fireworks. Short answer: when she’s an adult. Liv’s answer? A little more complex:

When I get big I’ll marry Seth, have a ball, and then light them on the Fourth of July.

Everyone who gets married has a ball, right? To which I say, thank you very much, Disney. To be honest, I don’t know which thought scares me more… the lighting of fiery explosions or my girl getting married.

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Final note. We’ve been talking about the birds and the bees quite a bit recently. Milo and Otis shows puppies and kitties being born (after which Liv asked for clarification, “Did she just poop kitties?”). So we picked up National Geographic’s Dogs & Cats in the Womb and, boy oh boy, did Liv get an education. Since then she and I have discussed eggs and “swimmers” (her term, not mine), menstrual cycles, miscarriage and locations of female body parts. My favorite Livia quote was when she referred to her “tiny womb” on a grocery store outing.

I love exploring life with this kid!

Sidenote: I used the fast-forward button at the start of that National Geographic program. I am so not ready to discuss the entirety of procreation with my five year old.

We finished reading The Hobbit Sunday night. It marked the ending of the first read-aloud book we did as a family and I’ll always be grateful that Jeremy picked it out for us. We worked our way through the book, reading several pages at a time while lounging on the living room couch or sprawled across Livia’s bed. More than one evening witnessed a very tired and squirrelly child—those two traits go hand-in-hand in the Tredway household—alongside one reading parent and one cuddling parent. Oftentimes the reading parent (usually me) also needed to tickle Squirrel Girl’s backside to keep her calm while detailed passages of barreling down the Forest River River or climbing up Lonely Mountain were being read. I have this to say for The Hobbit: the first half was more entertaining for a child than the second. It seems similar to The Lord of the Rings series in that way. The first halves are more lighthearted and full of humorous stories; the latter halves are darker, more serious in nature, and thus more dramatic.

Jeremy ordered the animated version of The Hobbit, which arrived in our mailbox sometime last week. It was driving force in Liv’s resolve to sit still for the final pages of the book as we refused to watch the film before the last page of the book had been read. So Monday night saw us prepare the first ever themed meal at the old homestead… Italian meat sandwiches became Roasted Dragon Meat on Hobbit Bread. Carrot sticks magically turned into Elvish carrots that sat neatly by piles of Dwarvish (Potato) Chips. The final touch, Wizard’s Brew Liv liked to call it, was a glowing blue combination of blue lemonade and Diet Squirt. We sat down for a feast in front of the John Huston-narrated version of The Hobbit, and there we stayed until Smaug was slayed and Bilbo returned safely to his hobbit hole in the Shire.

It was then Livia told us, for the first time, that she was “falling in love…”. With the movie. With that she walked upstairs by herself to go to bed. Another first.

Another week, another tooth!

Liv LOVES having her teeth pulled. My girl will dramatically wail at the very possibility of falling on the sidewalk, but she’s super tough when it comes to losing teeth. We worked on tooth #2 for a few minutes. Wobbled it with our fingers, pulled on it with floss, then yanked away with a damp rag and there it was, a gigantic whole on the bottom gum for tongue and straw alike to fill.

I love the visually awkward stage that I know is coming. Sweet baby teeth are filled with giant adult ones that don’t quite fit small heads. For years kids look kinda silly, but I think they are adorably cute. Bring on the big teeth!

So we’ve discovered Lincoln’s “sprayground.” And it rocks. It’s close to downtown, it’s free, it’s free and it’s free. What’s not to love? Check out this little cutie, I’ll call her Twin #1, playing in a fountain.

Next up is Liv. Check out the water toy I’ve given her to play with—clearly, I’ve spared no expense in the summer toy department. (Me, digging in the trunk: “Yeah, I’m sure there’s something you can play with back here. Here take this old cup I found. No, that’s not dirt on the edge. I’m sure it’s clean enough. Go play.”) Livia seems to be eyeing the Bellagio-esque leaping fountains that surprised her with a water-up-the-nose hit on our last visit. I think she avoided that area entirely upon our second sprayground trip.

Here we have Twin #1 accompanied by Twin #2 and Big Sister. They’re playing on these cool space-age seats that spin around really fast. The speed and slipperyness of the seats didn’t faze the twins one bit.

Big Brother. I love the mohawk and the smile—this kid charms me.

Last winter Liv’s dentist predicted our girl would lose her baby teeth soon, at “age five” she said. On Livia’s fifth birthday she worked and worked at that baby tooth, convinced it would fall out that day. This morning a little floss and a damp cloth did the trick! First tooth down, many to go. We’re pretty pumped around here. One of us in particular is eagerly awaiting the Tooth Fairy’s visit tonight!

Elsie (4yrs old): Livia won’t let me be the [garbled word].
Me: The what?
Elsie: The [garbled word].

I’m stumped.

Me: What’s going on, Liv?
Livia (5yrs old): She’s a sickoner. And I’m a sickoner, too.

Me: You are “sickoners?”
Elsie. We’re at the Ariel Hospital.
Livia: Yeah.
Me: At Ariel Hospital?
Elsie: Yeah.
Me: Oh. [pause] We can also call you “patients”.

And then they were back at it again. Two sickoners with no nurse in sight.

Forgive the poor photo, but I can’t resist posting this shot.

Liv has two questions she asks on a regular basis in the strangest, most monotone voice a five year old can muster. The first is, “What’s behind me?” It’s a strange little game she plays where she asks the question, holds absolutely still and waits for you to answer. Go figure.

The second question is, “Where’s the dog?” Asked in the same odd monotone voice, Livia won’t even look around the room. Somehow it’s your responsibility to locate Shiloh and report back. While Jeremy and I have taken to spontaneously and irrationally asking these questions in return, I ask you to refrain from doing so. Liv’s knowledge of my blogging is limited at best. In fact, I think she believes I’m working when I’m, in fact, blogging. So don’t ruin my secret just yet.

Hey, Internet! Where’s the dog?