Lucy is obsessed.
Okay, so preoccupied would be much a more accurate word, but it doesn't have the same ring to it, does it? No, dear reader, it does not.
I was reflecting yesterday on her past obsessions. Dressing pretty (okay, prettily in skirts or dresses), painting nails (finger and toes). That's it, really. Somehow, it's a big relief when these things pass. Lucy is now very happy in jeans and a t-shirt. They don't even have to be pink. She hasn't mentioned painting nails to me in at least a month, and is currently polish-free.
Lucy's current preoccupation is with her room.
Last summer, she started asking when we were going to move. I took her ball and ran with it and started worrying about all kinds of things: What would make her want to move?! Why was she unhappy here? Was it a social thing? Did I need to intervene? Would she tell me the details of this situation?
Turns out that she wanted a prettier room.
Brian has been fostering this desire in hopes that it will lead to more space in our own bed, as it is not uncommon for us to end up with six bodies in our bed on any given night. Usually, the number is much more manageable, but our kids (and dog) all seem to gravitate to our bed.
Brian has suggested to Lucy that she and Gabe could move to rooms in the basement and paint them any color they want. She wanted to go shopping for paint this past Sunday. We settled for making a list of things that she wanted in her room. This list included a lamp, bunk bed, and new curtains. She thought we could use her current quilt or find a new one. For me personally, watching her in this state of hyper-planning is fun. It's very foreign to me and extremely entertaining, however, there comes a point where it get to be a little much. See, Lucy is a talker. She can talk a blue streak.* She could talk both ears off an elephant. When she gets so incredibly focused on and excited about one thing, it's a little intense. She literally went to bed talking about her room and woke up talking about her room. Brian took Lucy and Gabe to get paint swatches the other night, so the streak continues, albeit to a lesser degree.
I would be fine if this preoccupation passes without painting the walls blue and pink and purple and yellow and green, but a big part of me wants to see this plan of hers (and her daddy's) come to fruition. I'm proud of that girl.
In other news, Gabe is accepting more variety in his wardrobe but still demands that he make the executive decision. Maybe it's that I (and Brian) are getting better at how and what we offer. Probably all of the above. Gabe is into "hoops" still, also bikes and skateboarding. He is able to make most shots on the hoop that he got for his birthday, and is his own cheering section. He's a talker, too, and it's fun to hear him echo Lucy's part in all conversations. Gabe got a bad (terrible sounding) cough--which he passed on to his little brother --so we're trying to lay low for a while. A trip to the doctor for Charlie was uneventful, so overall, we're happy.
(As for Charles, I am enjoying him(!!!), and hogging him a little bit.)
*From word-detective.com: “Blue streak,” means “with great intensity or speed” and originated in the US in the early 18th century. In all likelihood, the term [arose] by analogy to the speed and force of a bolt of lightning, especially in “talk a blue streak,” meaning to speak rapidly and excitedly.
