Aperitifs:
Cold water in BPA-free sippy cups, identical except for color, to avoid arguments over which is better. I give Clara a blue one.
"Tank-u," she murmurs.
Shar gets a purple one.
"Purple!" she yells.
Course 1: Papa Murphy's Take n' Bake gourmet vegetarian with chicken. Clara asks to sit in the "tair" next to me. I dish up small chunks of pizza in a plastic bowl and give the bowl to Clara.
"Mmmmmm...Me, Mommy," she says, cradling the bowl in her lap. She's wearing only a pair of teal underpants with a monkey on them. Diapers are simply unthinkable today. Her skin is silky and peachy-hued, her limbs round and soft. Her little brown belly sticks out over underpants.
She munches a bite of pizza with mushroom, swallows hugely, looks at me with clear blue eyes and holds up her sippy cup. As if it were an interesting archeological artifact she found under the inflatable wading pool.
"Mai tup," she says seriously.
She eats too fast because she wants to go play.
Course 2: More drinks, on the potty. Shar has confessed she needs to go. She sits for a long while. There's some confusion over the cups. A skirmish ensues. Clara realizes she's left her cup at the top of the stairs. Finally Shar hops off, not having gone at all, and Clara takes a seat. Her feet turn inward and she clasps her hands in her lap. She's briefly distracted by her belly button, but then her shoulders round forward and her face flushes peachy-pink and acquires the intensity of a woman giving birth.
After a moment she hops off and we see a tiny puddle inside the potty. Kamilla and I erupt into cheers and Shar shrieks in jealous rage. She must sit on the potty again. She quickly produces a whole lot of pee and we give her a good cheer.
Outside, a moment later, Clara looks down at her soaked underpants in surprise. Her baby hands go palms-up, and she shrugs her shoulders in astonishment and consternation.
"Pee-pee, potty," she says, patting the front of her underpants. She puts her hand in the warm puddle on the concrete patio. "Pee-pee. Mai potty," she says softly.
Interlude: The girls decide they are done eating pizza, and go downstairs to cook in the play kitchen. Shar finds the pink plastic cradle. Clara snatches it from her hands and beats a hasty retreat with it. She holds the cradle's fabric-covered handle in the crook of her arm as though it were a purse.
"Clara, Shar had this," I say, bringing the cradle back to Shar. Shar puts a plastic roast fowl in the cradle and rocks it, softly crooning a lullabye to it.
"Let's go upstairs and get your baby to show Shar," I suggest to Clara.
We go to her crib and find Ugly Baby. Ugly Baby, whose striped purple pants are perpetually falling off, due to her misshapen, battery-packed butt. Ugly Baby, who hasn't worn a shirt in months, whose fabric torso is stained, whose cries seem more and more like a sad, pensive chicken.
We bring Ugly Baby and Winnie the Pooh downstairs and I attempt to wrench Ugly Baby from Clara's arms so Shar can give her a test drive in the cradle.
"No, no! Mai bee-bee! No, Mommy, no, no!" Clara shrieks. She turns and burrows her face into the couch, clutching Ugly Baby around the neck in one arm and Winnie the Pooh in the other. She must keep her babies safe.
We decide to let Shar hold one of the lesser babies. She finds Raggedy Ann in the toy box but quickly chucks her aside. ("She doesn't trust gingers," Simon later says.) She finally settles on Bahama baby. Clara is fine with this, until Shar looks away. Then she sneaks over and collects both Bahama baby and Raggedy Ann, and brings them to where Simon and I are sitting. Being especially careful with Ugly Baby, she wedges the babies between us, where she knows they will be warm and safe.
Course 3: Graham crackers smeared with peanut butter, water.
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