Rose and I spent quite a bit of time together today on the way to and from -- and waiting around at -- the vet. Coco has a bladder infection that has gotten out of hand (read: peeing throughout the house), so I made an appointment to take her in today, one of Rose's two stay-at-home days of the week. Despite the rain, I thought it would be good to walk (much to Rose and Coco's dismay). Given the weather, the multiple tests/procedures, and the general moodiness of the traveling party, it took about ten times longer than it normally would have. Fabulous quality time together.
As we were waiting for the vet, I asked Rose about the odd arrangment of Wizard of Oz characters I had spied in her room that morning:
She told me they were for her club. "What club?" "My special club. It's for girls. And some boys, but only this many (boys)." (hands spread about 4 inches apart). Mmmm. "The tin guy, and the Lion and Dorothy and, who's that other guy? The one with grass and the brain problem? Anyway, they're eating cupcakes and wearing capes and . . . " (sadly, my mind wandered a bit at the very long description of her elaborate scene so these details are fuzzy). Plus, the vet entered, so our conversation stopped.
Change to the Long Walk Home.
Me: "What is that you're singing?"
Rose: "It's a song for my club."
Me: "What's the name of your club?"
Rose: "It's the Justin Beavers Club"
Me: "Don't you mean the Justin Bieber Club? It's Bie-Ber, with a 'B' like the insect."
Rose: "Noooooo, I mean Justin Be-Vers. With a 'V,' Mom." (interpret: "Duh, you moron.") Mmmmm.
(We've been talking a lot about Justin Bieber lately because Evan has been flipping his hair endlessly and just asked for skinny jeans. I had to gently plant the seed that not all fashions look good on everyone, but that's another story . . .)
A few blocks later. . . more singing.
Me: "What are you singing? I can't understand the words."
Rose: "That's because it's our special club language. Only club members understand it."
Me: "Wow. What does it say?"
Rose: "You don't say it, you sing it. It's only done in singing. No talking." That's a first. Back to singing (loudly).
Later, as we turn the final corner for home . . .
Me: "Who is part of your club, anyway?"
Rose: "Girls, I said. Some boys -- like Daddy and Evan, but mainly girls."
Me: "You do know that I'm a girl, right?"
Rose: "Yes, but you're OLD. This is for young girls." Wow - arrow to the heart!
Back to singing. And stomping through puddles. And wearing silver sparkle tights with an orange and blue skirt, pink soccer shorts underneath, a bright pink and silver "Hello Kitty" t-shirt, purple rain jacket, and brown and blue polka-dotted rain boots.
Ah, to be five. J-O-Y.