A Comb,and a Brush, and a Bowl Full of Mush...

This morning, Norah afforded me an opportunity to say a phrase that I never in my wildest dreams anticipated coming out of my mouth as a mother. It tickled me so much when I said it (one of those times you say something and then realize how it sounds, and just laugh at yourself), I decided to blog so I wouldn't forget.

"Good Night Moon" has been a favorite in our house ever since Norah was (literally) three weeks old. It has recently become one of Eli's favorite bedtime books, so Norah has had a renewed interest in it. Both kids have always loved the pages with "a comb and a brush and a bowl full of mush, and a quiet old lady who is whispering 'Hush!'" So, last week, Norah asked me mid-book, "Mommy, what's mush?" I told her if she reminded me, I would get some mush at the grocery store the next time we went, and she could try it for herself.

As a side note, am I the only one out there who finds it odd that the bunny in "Goodnight Moon" is going to bed with a bowl full of mush in his room? Whatever happened to the typical bedside glass of water? And it isn't just a "forgotten" dish, because he goes to the trouble of telling it "goodnight". He clearly knows it's there. So, instead of talking to it, why not do his mother a favor and just take it to the sink before it gets hard? On the other hand, if there were no mush, there could be no old lady whispering "Hush", and I would have missed the pleasure of watching both of my sweet babies learn to hold their index fingers to their lips and say "Shhh!" every time we read the story...so I'll digress...

My three year old daughter, with the memory of a pachyderm, made sure to dutifully remind me about "the mush" on our next grocery trip, so I picked up a box of instant oatmeal. (Technically, not "mush", but still mushy, and nearly identical to the bowl pictured in "Goodnight Moon") And yes, in case you're shocked, in Norah's three years, this was to be her first-ever experience with oatmeal. It's just not something I tend to keep on-hand. (I figure, when your kids like something as easy as frozen waffles, why rock the boat?)

So, this morning I prepared the promised "mush", which Norah immediately deemed "too hot" in true, Goldilocks fashion. Even after hearing me reason that it tasted better warm, N decided to let it cool off. After a few minutes, she tried it again, exclaiming, "Mmmmmm! I LOVE cold mush!" Of course, it was Saturday morning, so Daddy was home, and there was a lot going on around the house. N quickly lost interest in her breakfast (she is a grazer by nature), and I had to call her back to the table. "Norah, come finish your cold mush!" Mother of the year, here I come. Maybe next week we'll try gruel.