My wonderful, curious, bright girl learned how to knit today. It's been something she's been wanting to learn for the last couple of months, along with sewing and crocheting. Since my favourite pasttimes are reading, sleeping and taking hot baths, it pains me to admit that she must have received this curiousity gene from her dad. There is very little that doesn't interest her. She asks a million questions while helping her dad work. She is also very determined and does not quit until she understands it or conquers it herself if she is at all able to. I love this about her. I don't understand it, but I love it.
I also love the fact that she is very honest (unlike her brother - but I'll save that for a separate post). She has proven it countless times by confessing to me things she has said, done or thought that concerned her. Things that I wouldn't know about if she didn't tell me. During a spelling test a couple of weeks ago, after I corrected her perfect test, she took a pen and marked one word wrong because she took a quick peek in my book while I wasn't looking. And then she told me about it. In Sunday School last week, she was unhappy when she realized she forgot her Bible at home since they get rewards for remembering to bring their Bibles and for being able to quote their memory verse. She decided to take one of the generic Bibles from the pew into Sunday School so as not to miss out on that portion of her reward. When we got home, she told me about it because it "just didn't feel right". Very impressed, I agreed that it wasn't totally honest, but that I was very proud of her for seeing it and telling me about it. She understood that in the future if she forgot her Bible, she would just not receive her reward. This trait does come from me, since I always seemed to have enough guilt to cover the entire family's sins when I was a kid (and still sometimes do, for some stupid reason).
She has one nasty flaw, however. And unfortunately, I must also take the credit/blame for this trait. It's all wrapped in that stupid thing called vanity. And PRIDE.
Following our afternoon school bus run, we had to go to the store. I have to wear a bright neon yellow vest while I drive bus, and the kids are required to wear something similarly bright because they ride with me. Just before we got to the door of the store, I noticed that neither of the kids had taken their vests off. Upon reflection now, I wonder why I even mentioned it because it really is no big deal whether or not a person wears their vest into a store. I guess it just proves my point that she got this stinkin' trait from good ole' moi. Because of my stupid mouth, both of the kids removed their previously forgotten vest. Further, to Hannah's mortification, because my hands were already full, I asked her to hold the vests while we were in the store.
This was too much. To actually hold the vests while walking through a public place was akin to the world ending. By the time we made it to the line-up at the till, I noticed she had managed to scrunch the vests up into a very tight ball and hide them around her left armpit so that only a tiny little bit of NEON YELLOW was showing. I leaned over and quietly said (or so I think)...
"Are you embarrassed to be holding those vests, Hannah?"
To which she desperately whispered,
Being quite quick on the uptake, I shut my mouth for the duration of our time in the store. When we got in the car, I asked her why she was embarrassed.
"Well, what would you think, mom?!" was her sassy reply. "Wouldn't YOU be embarrassed to have to hold vests in the store?" she asked. "I mean, NOBODY EVER HOLDS VESTS IN THE STORE, MOM!"
Well duh! I mean, stupid me. Of course nobody would do something so disgraceful!
"And why did you have to ASK me if I was embarrassed in public?" she continued.
She is seven years old. SEVEN. Can you imagine what she'll be like in a few years?
But at least she is honest.
Three out of four ain't bad.