One, Two, What's a Shoe?

Dear Tante and Oma,

I have TWO teeth now! But that doesn’t make me want to eat the salmon Mama gave me last night.

I have ONE finger. Mama calls it Mr. Pointer. I like to use it to point, fiddle, flip, and hook Mama’s lip like a fish and rrreeeeeeell her in!

I have ONE sister. She is sick, and so am I. I have a runny nose. Yesterday it was just ONE nostril, but now it is TWO. I blow raspberries and make spit bubbles so everything mixes around into one big mess and it’s lots of fun and all good!

I had ONE lunch and Sabrina fed me some of her yo-grit. I like yo-grit! It was GREEK yo-grit. Are all GREEK things this good?

Mama got ONE Book of Mormon yesterday. She says she really likes the lady who gave it to her, so she’s going to look at it in the best possible light. She’s using it as a coaster.

Mama slept with TWO little girls last night. ONE little girl cried a lot, and it wasn’t me! ONE Daddy went and slept in the guest room. He was in charge of going to get milk and diapers and other things when Mama called him.

ONE Sabrina is very hot, except when she eats her grape med-ne-zen. I don’t want to sleep by her. During the night Mama told Big Sisser Wisser that she had a fever and needed some medicine. She said, “I DON’T need med-ne-zen, Mama. I’m not so sick as you get.”

Love,
Sickie Linnie

A Headless Horse in My Bed

Dear Tante and Oma,

Remember in The Godfather when the producer refuses to cast Johnny Fontane in his new film, and Don Corleone sends a message? Well, last night Sabrina’s horsy pacie met a similar end, and the screaming was about the same.

Sabrina’s horsy wasn’t named Khartoum, but he was a handsome pink devil with an impish green pacie in his mouth. Last night Mama took a pair of scissors to him and murdered poor little horsy!

Here’s what happened: for a long time Mama and Daddy have been telling Sabrina that Easter is NO MORE PACIES DAY—even at nighttime!

This seems mean, because Sabrina sure loves her pacies. She has horsy pacie, doggy pacie, green froggy pacie, and beaded pacie chains from Germany with pacies on the end. She likes to sleep with about twelve pacies. She likes pacies on her fingers, pacies in her mouth, and pacies clipped to her shirt.

During the day she’ll go lie down just so she can have a pacie.

But Mama said it was time to sleep without pacies and Daddy said it was time to sleep without pacies and the dentist said it was time to sleep without pacies. I must admit my big sister is getting a bit of an overbite.

Anyway, Big Sisser Sabrina was very excited about Easter and about being a big girl who sleeps without pacies.

Until bedtime, that is.

Easter night she said she would just wear the pacies on her fingers, but somehow they found their way into her mouth. The next night Mama said “No pacies. Period.” Apparently saying punctuation makes it more convincing.

When the punctuation ended, the crying started.

Big Sisser Sabrina cried and cried when Mama said goodnight without pacies. Then she stood and screamed. Then she turned on all the lights and cried some more.

Daddy went up to help Sabrina. Sabrina stopped crying long enough to tell Daddy she wanted a pacie chain. Mama sent one up. Tricky Mama took the pacie off the pacie chain first, though.

You can imagine my sister’s reaction.

Then Mama went up to try to calm down Sisser Wisser. Sisser asked for horsy pacie. Mama said she couldn’t have a pacie with horsy. Sisser said, “OK.” Mama said, “You want horsy without a pacie?” Sisser said, “Yes.”

So Mama left the room, cut the pacie part off horsy, and brought the remains to Sabrina.

Well, you can’t imagine Sisser’s grief. Her beloved horsy had been decapitated. She cried. She wailed. She moaned. She screamed. She opened her mouth and no sound came out. She gnashed her teeth.

She calmed down some, and then took one look at her horsy and started sobbing again.

To make a long sob story short, Mama had to rock a hiccupping sister in the recliner and tell her stories about how Mama and Daddy had to learn to sleep without sucking on anything. After sister calmed down, she went back to bed. Then the crying started again.

I finally decided to sleep, but this morning Mama said it took my sister two hours to cry herself to sleep.

Today Sabrina has been walking around sadly asking Mama if we can put that pacie back on horsy. Mama said no.

Then she asks Mama why Mama hurt horsy. Mama calls it “an unfortunate misunderstanding.” Sisser calls it the “deliberate murder of a non-combatant.” Sabrina asked Mama if Linnie would have to give up her pacies some day too. Mama said yes.

Run for your life, Kitty Cat Pacie, run for your life!

Love,
Linnie Lou

Danger, Will Robinson!

Dear Tante and Oma,

Danger! Danger! Danger! Dive! Dive! Dive!

You can’t imagine the plague that has come to our little house in Provo. I can hardly believe it myself.

I heard Mama and Daddy talking on Sunday about something they call “sleep training.” Have you ever heard of this? The words don’t sound bad, but the meaning is VERY BAD.

At first I thought it was a mistake. Why do I need to train to sleep? I sleep just fine in my car seat and my swing. But Daddy said, when are we going to get Linnea out of that car seat?

Then I heard them say I would have to cry in my crib. Why would they PLAN for me to cry in my crib? I tried to bounce and squawk and play my music very loudly to distract them, but they kept talking about this BAD THING.

Then yesterday the worst thing EVER happened. At naptime Mama began this “sleep training.” Instead of letting me snuggle in the swing with my pacies and bunnies at naptime, she put me in my bad crib! Flat on my back!

She gave me pacies and put on some insipid music and then LEFT. I cried and cried and cried myself to sleep. But then I kept losing my pacies and woke up crying some more. The only thing that saved me was that it was time to leave for the museum.

After the meanness at naptime, we went to Salt Lake City in the car. I was able to take some nice naps in the car. At the museum I took a nice nap on Mama’s chest in the Baby Bjorn.

Thank goodness I got my rest during the day, because at bedtime Mama did the BAD THING AGAIN. Again with the flat on the back. Again with the crib. Again with the pacies and the stupid music. Again with the LEAVING.

This time I didn’t take it lying down.

OK, I guess I did. But I put up a fight! I cried. Mama always comes to help me when I cry. This time Mama came in and patted me, but left again.

So then I cried and I pulled my feet as high as I could in the air and then WHAM—dropped them down onto the mattress. I did this lots of times.

Mama came in and patted me but left again!

So then I cried a new high-pitched cry.

Daddy came in and patted me but left again.

Then I screamed. I cried and I screamed and let the tears roll down my face.

Do you know what happened? Mama came in and patted me but left again!

Then the pièce de résistance. I screamed and started coughing and gagging like I was going to throw up.

Mama came in, and THAT got her attention. She picked me up, but I was so wound up that I just kept screaming. She tried to give me the same horrible pacies that she put in my crib. I pushed those away. I wasn’t about to fall for that one.

Mama took me downstairs, but I kept screaming. She gave me to Daddy and I screamed but started breathing a little bit. I was so upset that I needed a bottle and an hour in Daddy’s lap watching basketball before I could finally calm down and fall asleep. Sports always make me fall asleep.

Daddy—God Bless Daddy—said, “Why are we doing this again?” Mama said, “Because Dr. Anderson wants us to.” What? What? WHAT? I thought these people were supposed to be my Mama and Daddy. They are supposed to use their noggins and know best. If Dr. Anderson wanted them to jump off a bridge with me in their arms, would they do that too?

Turns out that rotten Dr. Anderson says I can’t sleep in my car seat anymore and I have to sleep in my own room and learn to fall asleep by myself. Mama did some research, and some other babies have let their heads slump in their car seats and the slumping made them not breath so well. I promised that I would breath, but they didn’t listen.

Mama said when big sister Sabrina was my age she had to be rocked to sleep, and all that rocking took hours. Then Sabrina woke up again right away. So that’s why they did this bad bad “sleep training” with big sisser (poor big sisser!).

But I DON’T DO THAT. I fall asleep right away when they give me a bottle, and I stay asleep. I’ve slept through the night since I was SIX WEEKS OLD. This is the thanks I get?

Mama and Daddy decided to COMPROMISE with Dr. Anderson. I’ve heard Mama use this word with big sisser, and it never comes out well for big sisser.

They decided that they would keep helping me fall asleep, and would leave the crib in their room. But (here comes the COMPROMISE) I would have to sleep flat on my back in the crib—no car seat. We did that last night, and I made it a few hours before I had to snuggle with Mama in the big bed. After some snuggle and sleep, she put me back in my crib and I made it a while longer before I got up with Daddy for a bottle.

The next time I go to the doctor I’m going to eat some raspberries first and then throw up on Dr. Anderson. I might get a little bit on Mama too. Thhhhepppttthhh.

Love and Tears,
Tired Little Linnie Lou-Hoo

Voilà!

Dear Oma and Tante,

Je Suis Prêt!

Just like Jamie Fraser, Je Suis Prêt is big sister Sabrina’s motto. It is French, and it means “I Am Ready.” This is what Sabrina says to Mama all the time, except Sabrina uses the contraction: “I’m Ready!”

I don’t know how to do the contraction in French. Mama says she doesn’t think the French have contractions, and would be irritated if we tried. She says the French have made a cottage industry out of being irritated.

When Sabrina asks for something and Mama says yes, yes, in a minute, in two minutes, in thirty minutes, after I do this big sister always answers, “I’m Ready!” Mama says, “I know you are ready, but I am not ready.” Then Sabrina says, “but I’m READY!”

Then Sabrina asks for the same thing again and Mama says, “big sister Sabrina, what did I just say?” And Sabrina says, “what?”

My favorite word is voilà! Voilà is a French word too. It means “Mama Will Take Care of It.”

When I cry, voilà! I am snuggled. When I am hungry, voilà! Lunch is served. When big sister says I HAVE A POOP-A-LOOP or I make my grunty face, voilà! We have sparkling clean bottoms. Pee in the potty to be flushed? Voilà! Dogs need to be fed? Voilà! Boo got sick? Voilà! Dinner to cook? Voilà! Dirty floor? Stained carpet? Holes in your socks? Voilà! Voilà! Voilà!

Do you have a voilà!? If not, I think you should get one. They are very nice to have.

My favorite voilà! is a little one. Sometimes when I have trouble going to sleep, Mama tucks me into her arms. She puts one hand on the side of my face. I put my hand on her hand. She kisses my forehead, and tells me a story about some little fellows named Wynken, Blynken, and Nod. Then voilà! I am asleep!

Mama was sad yesterday because she was sick. She had a headache all day that got more and more headachy. Then she started to get a mad tummy. Her tummy got madder and madder and she was afraid she would have some sick come out.

Daddy came home so that Mama could go to bed. Mama made the room very dark and very quiet and Daddy said No Girls Allowed upstairs. When the room was dark and quiet then Mama let the black come. She let the black come for two hours. Then she woke up and told Daddy how to make dinner, but she stayed in bed. Daddy brought her plain dinner things in bed and Sabrina and I even got to be in bed with her for a while!

Mama was sad that she was sick again and said she felt like she was being a burden. But I just say, she ain’t heavy, she’s my Mama!

Love,
Little Linnie Lou-Hoo

P.S. Today Mama feels better.