February 26, 2009 by Barbara.

Reid and I went skating with Melissa and Ben at an outdoor rink in their neighbourhood on Sunday afternoon. Ben was eager to play hockey with the big kids but spent some time skating on the “puddle” with Reid first. The 3 years difference in their ages and the fact that one is a girl and the other a boy aren’t really barriers when they’re playing outside - or at least not in Reid’s mind. Unfortunately, despite the weekly skating lessons since September, Reid is not as proficient a skater as Ben. When they did go to the rink with boards and nets, Reid tried to skate and handle the puck a bit with the big boys and then decided to play goalie instead. The older boys, who were 13 or 14, refused to take shots on my pink-suited 4-year-old girl. She didn’t tell them that she was 4 *and a half* but I doubt it would have made a difference. I talked Reid away from the net and Ben even agreed to shoot on the net at the other end for a bit. She wanted back into the game, though.

Back at our house, Reid had lots to say about skating and said that she wanted to play hockey in the fall when Ken asked her. I wish I knew other hockey families in the area. I don’t know anything about when to register, where to find used equipment of any of that. Luckily, it’s spring and the right time of year for a young girl’s thoughts to turn to hockey. Far better than September …

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February 26, 2009 by Barbara.

Reid wanted to play “baby” one weekend morning recently and, for once, I got to be the baby. I don’t understand why Reid wants to be the baby in a game since she is the baby in real life but usually she chooses that role. When she is the “mama”, though, I see how she sees me or maybe how she thinks I should be.

I tried to convince Reid to join me in the big bed for a cuddle with Daddy. Reid said that she couldn’t; she had things to fix in “my” bedroom. “Daddy was supposed to do it. But he didn’t do it.” Her tone was resigned, final. Ken offered a rude comment that Reid couldn’t here. It’s nice not to be the parent in the spotlight, especially when the light isn’t particularly flattering.

At one point, Reid declared that I needed a haircut. When I said that I was afraid, Reid quickly reassured me that she would be right there with me. (That’s the sort of thing I’d say.) Then, she added, “I’ll cut it myself.” (NOT something I’d say.) I told Ken that the latter bit of information made me more afraid and Reid, hearing the comment, reassured me that Daddy would be there, too. I tried another tack and asked my “mama” if she thought I was pretty. “You’re pretty at the front,” Mama-Reid said. “But you’re not pretty from the front. You need the back of your hair cut.” The latter was said in a firm voice, brooking no argument. (I like to think that I would never tell Reid that she wasn’t pretty, other than that her actions aren’t pretty.) Being a wiley Baby-Mama, I distracted Mama-Reid from the haircut with breakfast. I did say that we don’t ever *really* cut hair but I’m not sure if she was ever intending to try.

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