stella bella

From day one, when Stella started attending her current daycare she has favoured her teacher Beatrice. Beatrice not only calls her Stella-Bella, a name which Stella has grown very fond of, but Beatrice is also "Stella's best friend!" It is very cute watching them say bye to each other at the end of the day. There is the ususal "Bye, bye, my Best friend!" and the "I love you, Beatrice!" Followed by "Who is my Best friend?" and the "I am, I am, I am Beatrice's best friend!"

Beatrice is a gorgeous, tall black woman (Jamaican, I think) who dresses with utmost care every single day. If you met her on the street it would never ever cross your mind that this woman spends the day working with a handful of snotty toddlers, changing diapers and wiping up spills. I honestly think that her influence on Stella goes way beyond "best friends" or "stella-bella". Just look at this picture! Stella dressed herself for daycare this morning and I did not have the heart to make her get changed. I figure I might as well let her express herself now, maybe she will rebel less when she's a teenager.

A few weeks ago in the middle of the summer heat wave, Stella decided that she will be going to school in tights, long pants (Yeah, on top of the tights), a down filled vest and a pair of gloves. Occasionally I do have to insist on a change of clothes for her own good, but it never goes over too well. It taught me a lesson - pack away winter clothes for the summer...

toast

A few days ago, while making my coffee, I hear Stella saying: "That's not toast!" I usually do not take these comments too seriously. My reply is pretty generic (to all her "That's NOT... comments"): "Of course, Stella, it's not toast." Most mornings that is exactly what she needs to hear. However, this morning it throws her nearly into a tantrum. After a few minutes she repeats: "That's not toast, mommy!" Even though I still have no clue what she's talking about, I repeat: "Yes, Stella, it's not toast. It's porridge." She bursts into another bout of complete frustration. And keeps repeating the same thing: "That's not toast, mommy!" This time I glance over and see her pointing at the computer. I still don't get it. "No, love, that's not toast. It's a computer." Same reaction... only this time she flings herself onto the floor and starts screaming something completely incomprehensible about toast. I'm beginning to loose my patience. Seriously... How many times can I take this in one morning? She's probably feeling the same way, unfortunately. So, I take a deep breath and plug along with breakfast. After a while Kaspar wonders down the stairs and he solves the mystery. Right there on the computer screen is a picture of our recently busted up Volvo. It turns out that all along she has been pointing at the small picture of the Volvo on the computer and telling me: "That's not toast, mommy!" Did I ever feel stupid!!! If only I had taken the time to pay closer attention from the first moment on, I would have caught on. It was funny and tragic all at once. It made me feel really bad for being the busy body mother that hardly pays attention to my kid. Yet, on the other hand, it was a mystery only my four year old could have solved so immediately. The only thing that was harder then trying to understand the comment was trying to explain in what instance one would call a "car" - "toast".