Don't Let the Moon Break Your Heart

OK, here's the latest. First, the girls have both started singing this old song from a k.d. lang album (Shadowland)- "Don't Let the Stars Get in Your Eyes." For the longest time, they only sang the first line of it... "Don't let the stars get in your eyes, don't let the moon break your heart..." over and over and over. Which was cute and weird and funny and maddening all at the same time. Which come to think of it is a reasonable summary of much of parenting these days. Now Muriel knows more of the words, and it is the bomb when she sings it.

Remember when Naomi was speaking faux Hindi all the time? Well, now she can write in faux Hindi! Is there nothing her preschool won't teach her? If I weren't so lazy I would scan the drawing of a bobble-head doll she made (which she insists on calling a bobby-head doll, and that's funnier anyway, so why argue?) which has all the relevant information along the top in faux Hindi. She also loves drawing paisley patterns, expanding her standard repertoire of hearts, stars, flowers, and swirls.

The other day when I picked her up, her teacher told me that Muriel had almost made her cry that day. During their visit to the diaper room, which, Miss Beth informs me, is where they often have a chat, Muriel told her that she was not going to be at the school much longer, and she wouldn't be seeing her anymore. Muriel is going to change schools next month, so she and Naomi can have a summer together at the same school before Naomi starts Kindergarten. I am never that sure what Muriel knows, though. With the second one, I find it is hard to ever believe that she is not still a baby, so when she starts walking and talking and demonstrating her capacity, I still can't believe it's anything other than a marvelous trick the baby has learned. But here she is, conducting a little therapy session with her teacher about the upcoming sense of loss both of them must face together. Yikes.

It seems like maybe I have written about something similar to this before, but it's happening so much lately, I can't resist mentioning it again. Naomi and Muriel get along very well together, but they are two very different little people (also, people like to say that they look so much alike, but to me, they really don't at all). And each of them is now old enough to observe the other, occasionally, with some distinct person detachment, if that makes sense. So a few times lately, one of them will do something, and the other will make eye contact with me, and we will acknowledge together something about the other. Mostly it goes like this: Muriel does something hilarious, like talking about something and then throwing a really theatrical face very smoothly into the narration. Naomi will look at me with a big smile, like, "Did you see that?!" Or, at the end of the day, during the tired and grouchy time, Naomi will become overwhelmed by her feelings of whatever (this happens, um, often), and cry and cry, and after a while Muriel will look at me and say, "She's still crying!" There is something about this acknowledgment of the other kid as a person having their own separate personhood that feels mysterious and monumental at the same time.