High Brow Literature

This past weekend, while Trent and I were losing horribly at “The Newlywed Game” themed Christmas party (where losing equals drinking massive quantities of wine and laughing too loudly), Lucy got to have a sleepover at my older sister’s house. There were relatively few hiccups, except when they realized she could climb out of their portable crib and open the door of the room she was sleeping in, and found her wandering the halls at 10 p.m. Now, my niece, Sloan, and Lucy are good buds, especially since all poor, sad Sloanie wants in the whole wide world is a little sister. Lucy is like mini-Sloan, following her around everywhere. And at 8-years-old, Sloan is still young enough to find all that attention flattering and not annoying. Let’s wait three years and see what she thinks, shall we?

When we picked up Lu on Sunday, I found several items in her backpack that I had not seen before. Specifically two tubes of princess glitter lipgloss that I keep finding hidden around my house. Everytime I take them away, that kid finds them and stashes them in her room. Unfortunately for her, I can usually tell that she’s hoarding them by the giant, glittery streaks all over her face.

I also found a handmade book, which Sloan made for Lucy. It made me happy.

The front cover of “Lucy: A Novel by Sloan.”

Just in case you forgot who this book is all about….

Or you needed some help spelling Lucy. L.U.C.Y.

OK, here’s where it starts to get good.

Dear Lucy,
I hope you enjoyed playing with us. I enjoyed it too! My favorite thing was when we were rolling on the ottoman. What was your favorite thing to do? I hope you had a great time again.
Your cousin,
Sloan

Wait, there’s more!

Hi Lucy,
I really hope you haved a great time! I hope you also had fun playing with me! I had a great time too.
Your cousin,
Sloan
P.S. Tell your mom we need to have our girls night.

I love that the passive agressive nature that runs through my family’s DNA has been passed on to Sloan. I promised her a girls’ night for Christmas last year, and she asks me about it everytime she sees me. And everytime I call her house. And apparently everytime she writes a letter to my two-year-old.

Fictional depiction of Sloan and Lucy playing in her backyard. Fictional because it was 2 degrees outside and snowing when Lu was there.

The star of this memoir.

When I saw this back page, I was all, “Wow, Sloan, you’ve gotten really good at writing your name.” And she was all, “Yeah, I know.” Only later did I realize that this is a drawing I did for her last time I babysat.

Sneaky, that one. Very sneaky.