Bags of Cats and Bibs

We were awakened this morning by a knocking on our door and a sweet little voice saying over and over, "Who is it? Who is it, Daddy?"

Bill took a nap this afternoon. He was awakened because of a nightmare. He dreamed he was sleeping in our bed exactly like he was then sleeping when someone threw a bag of cats on him, and his arms were paralyzed, so he couldn't get the cats off. They were crawling all over his face and his whole body. I can imagine how terrible that would be! 

I would take being woken up the first way, even if it was too early. (I wrote the beginning of this post and didn't finish it that day. I have since been woken up to Sadie crying at my door super early saying, "Who is it? Who is it, Mommy? I need you, Mommy! I don't want Presty to get me my breakfast! Get up, Mommy! Who is it? Who is it, Mommy?" It was still way better than a bag of cats, but the crying slightly affects the cuteness factor.)

Sadie sang, "You Are My Sunshine" to me. My gun friends will like her version better than the original. "You are my sweetie, my wittow sweetie. I can hode you in my arms. Pwease don't take my arms away." 

I had some Mozart music on the piano from when I attempted to practice earlier. (Sadie doesn't let me really work on a song long before she is on my lap asking me to make her "two pokey fingers pway Twinkow Wittow Star"...) Carter sat at the piano, and he worked on the first measure or two of the song for about fifteen minutes. When he realized how hard the song was going to be for a kid who rarely practices and who has really only had fewer than twenty lessons ever because of an inconsistent teacher, he asked, "Will you pay me fifty bucks if I learn this song?" 

I really would pay him that much if it would make him practice. I am guessing he would learn one or two lines before giving up because it is so far out of his reach right now. It's hard for me, and I have been playing for thirty years! I remember learning the first few pages when I was in seventh grade, but I have forgotten so much. It is weird how the fingering mostly comes back to me, even if I am having other issues with it...

My kids hardly EVER compliment each other, so I was shocked the other night at dinner when Carter said, "I think Preston is going to be as good as Uncle Matt at the piano when he grows up." He even said it right in front of Preston. It might be true. I have seen Preston work on a song out of a book for five or ten minutes. Then, he practices the song over the course of a few days or a week without using the book. He makes mistakes, but he corrects himself because he can remember how it is supposed to go. Once in a while, he will open the book to check something because he doesn't have a completely photographic memory, but it still amazes me. He also has a really good ear. 

Sadie is obsessed with bras, which she calls bibs, and boobs. She is always trying to look down my shirt and touch me, and I made the mistake of telling her no. Now she wants to do it more, and she thinks it's so funny. I should have just ignored her, and she would have gotten over it, but being two makes her want to do anything I tell her she isn't supposed to do. Ugh. And heaven help the next lady who holds her who actually has cleavage!