We said goodbye to Grammy and Aunt Beth this morning. But first we climbed up the fake lighthouse up the block from us for some family photos. That went well. Yeah. Lowe was struggling to break free of Grammy’s arms and dive over the railing while Ouest just decided she wasn’t having anything to do with any of it.
What we are finding is that with Ouest it is best just not to ask her for things. For instance, the whole no ponytail thing, that was our fault. We would ask her if we could put a pony in and she would of course say no. A few days ago we just started putting them in like it was just part of the morning routine, like brushing teeth, and boom, she hasn’t said a thing about them since. So asking her if she’ll stand next to Grammy for a picture is clearly the wrong approach. Next time I’ll just casually pick her up and set her down next to Grammy and probably get fifty pictures out of her.
In the afternoon I took Ouest out to see her first “play.” Dora the Explorer was playing a one day show at Teatro Vallarta and I thought she’d get a kick out of the big costumes, singing, and dancing.
Boy was I wrong. Keep in mind that Ouest’s only real Dora interaction was sitting on a pink Dora toilet seat. Since then she’s probably seen a couple bits and pieces of her cartoon and again associated it with her toilet seat. So today when the curtain went up and giant Dora came bounding on to the stage Ouest didn’t really have much of a reaction. She smiled and liked the spectacle of the whole thing, but was quickly over it.
While all the other kids called out character names, waved stars around, and squealed every time a fox would walk across the stage, Ouest was finishing up her popcorn and asking to go home.
“Home Papa. Home Papa?”
“Oh Ouest, let’s watch for a few more minutes.” Translation: I just paid thirty dollars for these tickets, let’s try and stay at least thirty minutes.
“Done Papa. Home?”
One funny thing did happen though. A blue train came chugging onto the stage and I said to Ouest, “Ooooh, that would be fun to ride in.” And just like that she hopped up out of her seat and started down the aisle.
“Ouest, I’m sorry baby, we can’t go on that train.”
Look of pure innocence: “Why Papa?”
We made it to the thirty minute mark before walking out. A hundred other kids squealing with fanatical delight as we strolled hand in hand through the empty lobby. Thing is, I was actually sort of proud of her for wanting to leave. She couldn’t care less about Dora. Or her monkey. And that’s just another reason we live the way we do.
