And the Oscar Goes to...

...Lucy, Amy D., and Hilary, for having us over for chili and Oscar-watching fun. Kate and Lucy liked commenting on what everyone was wearing (they both didn't care for Miley Cyrus' aluminum foil-inspired gown, but were split on Penelope Cruz's dress). But they mostly enjoyed screaming and laughing and being silly. These outfits were inspired by Meryl Streep in "Doubt." Lucy and Kate were not as moved by Penelope's acceptance speech as we were. "Wall-E!" Kate was happy to finally recognize a star during the show. Kate and Lucy settled down long enough to eat chocolate cake from Porto's Bakery. Yum.

It was getting late...those musical numbers by the Craigslist Dancers seemed to be getting longer...Miss Lucy was pooped. ...and so was Miss Kate.

We headed home shortly thereafter. Lucy managed to stay up to see "Slumdog Millionaire" win Best Picture. She accepted her Oscar, then promptly passed out.

Kate, hopped-up on chocolate cake and Oscar-party-Lucy-excitement, sang and blabbed away in her bed until ten o'clock. Oy.

The next day at school, she was thrilled to find out that her teacher, Ms. Mary, had also watched the Oscars...with a friend named Lucy!

Kate-dates

Kate's best friend from school, Maya, came over last President's Day for a rainy-afternoon playdate. After a few seconds of squealing and jumping up and down, they went straight upstairs to Kate's room to play. Chris was working in his office next door and could hear them quietly playing with Kate's toys for a while. When it got too quiet, he peeked inside and found them lying side-by-side in Kate's bed with the covers pulled up, reading. Like an old married couple. Of course, the honeymoon never lasts for too long on a playdate. Kate and Maya eventually came downstairs and decided to color. Everything was going swimmingly until Kate veered from the page she was coloring and and started "helping" Maya color her pink picture with her dark marker. Apparently, Maya told Kate to stop, but she didn't. When Maya complained to her Mom and we sauntered over to investigate, Kate burst into big, wailing sobs. Oh, the guilt! The injustice! This lasted a good ten minutes. The pendulum swung back, and everything was fine and dandy once more. "Mom, I'm happy again!" Later on, Maya's mother announced it was time to leave and it was Maya's turn to burst into tears. Kate and I waved goodbye as Maya cried all the way to the car. "Poor Maya. I should've given her one of my stuffed animals!" The following afternoon, Kate's friend, Isa, came by to play. Isa is six months younger, and they mostly played side-by-side, rather than together, except when they decided to build a tower towards the end of the playdate. Things were going well until Kate was suddenly overcome with playdate-fatigue and became loopy. As Isa was getting ready to leave, the dams finally broke and Kate lost it, throwing a huge tantrum that went on and on, long after Isa was gone, until she finally exhausted everyone, including herself. Good times.

Oh, the dramatic life of a 3.5 year old. "Let's do it again, Momma!"

Happy Special Friends' Day

For Valentine's Day, Kate and I gave goody bags to her friends at A Child's Garden. I continue to be amazed at how quickly Kate is maturing, often times underestimating what she is capable of doing. As I began putting the bags together, Kate said she wanted to help. I was a little hesitant since Kate's "help" usually creates more work for me, but not this time. Kate carefully selected a bag for each child, and after I wrote the child's name on the tag, she placed a pencil, a heart-shaped chocolate, and small planter with seeds inside it and set it aside. After I wrote each child's name on a bag, Kate shared her thoughts about them: "I love Maya so much. She's gonna love this bag. I don't like it when other kids play with her. I want to play with her by myself. Just two." "Oh, no, I don't like Flora. She grabs toys away from me and she hits the teachers!" "Joy doesn't play with anyone. She plays with her dollies." "Bryce used to be nice. He's not nice anymore...I like him." And regarding a girl who recently shoved Kate to the ground and made her cry: "I like her. She's nice." When all the bags were filled, Kate counted them to make sure there was one for each child. Not only was Kate proud of herself for a job well done, but she was thrilled about giving a little gift to her school friends. Kate's preschool had its annual "Special Friends' Day" on Thursday and Friday, inviting parents, relatives, or any special friend to spend the day with their child at school. Kate was so thrilled to have me and Chris as her guests, she could hardly stand it. "Is it Special Friends' Day today?" "When I wake up, will it be Special Friends' Day??" She was so excited the night before, she actually fell asleep with a smile on her face. I was Kate's "special friend" on Thursday. As soon as we got our jackets off, the first thing Kate wanted to do was look for Maya, her best buddy at school. Lately, all Kate talks or thinks about is Maya. Maya-Maya-Maya. All day, every day. She often calls me "Maya" instead of "Momma" and blushes when she realizes her mistake, or when I tease her about it. Because Maya only wears skirts, Kate only wants to wear skirts to school now. And because Maya's hair is long, Kate wants to grow her hair long. Since Kate's hair grows about a centimeter a year, this may take a while. "Maybe when you're in Kindergarten...or First Grade." I'm more than a little disturbed by how the peer pressure thing is in full swing already. Once upon a time, Kate would've needed me to be right by her side and play with her. Not anymore. She and Maya had their own special routine and games and jokes. Luckily, Maya's father is great company, and he and I had fun hanging out while following the girls around like chaperones on a date. This is a shot of Maya and Kate prancing to the chapel. Kate and I baked heart-shaped cookies for the kids to decorate. The science table. The teachers put baking soda in a pie plate and had the kids apply food coloring with an eye dropper. Kate wanted to show me how good at climbing she's become. A rare moment sans Maya.

It's easy to see why Kate and Maya are best buddies. They are exactly alike in their temperament, tastes, and interests, and think the world of each other.

According to the teachers, Maya and Kate are always the last to finish their snack, taking their sweet time grazing, chatting, and relaxing, while the rest of the kids are outside playing. Special Friends' Day was no different, and Ms. Mary and Ms. Carrie eventually evicted them from the room. Ms. Carrie told me they usually take their snacks to the outside picnic table and continue grazing. Which is exactly what they did. Maya offered me the handful of grapes she had left, and Kate gave me a bite of her heart-shaped sandwich.

Cornmeal fun. I found it very therapeutic and would've stayed here for hours if a kid didn't come by and stare longingly at the space I was hogging at the table. I would like to have a cornmeal table in every room of our house.

"Watch me, Momma!"

At the end of the day, the school had a "Teddy Bear Parade" where the kids marched around with their teddy bear to music while the parents went nuts with their video cameras. Kate brought one of her favorite bears, "Teddy B."

Kate and her pal, Jessica.

The next day, it was Chris' turn to visit Kate's school as her special friend. Chris said Kate and Maya were once again, inseparable, but towards the end of the day they had a little tiff and both burst into tears. One of the teachers chalked it up to it being Friday, the 13th. Chris attributed it to their 3.5 years of age.

Kate and Maya before the Teddy Bear parade. 3.5-year-olds may cry at the drop of a hat, but they also forgive and forget very quickly -- one of the many amazing things about kids.

Shakin' it during circle time:

And finally:

Kate's Videograms

A couple of weeks ago, Kate recorded a few "videograms" for her cousin Emma in Chapel Hill, and her cousin Kes in Tucson. In between, she made a slide out of her blanket and did some drawing in the Big Bear Chair.

This is Kate telling Emma a "joke." The punchline needed a little work on this take.

This is Kate singing a song she learned at preschool for Kes.

And a song about a little acorn, for Emma. Kate had a case of the itchy nose that morning.

The Bulgogi Bus

On Saturday night, Chris, Kate, and I decided to hunt down the latest gastronomic phenomenon to hit Los Angeles: the Korean taco, served from a taco truck named "Kogi" ("meat").

There is only one truck (starting next week there will be two), and it drives to different locations throughout the city, updating its whereabouts through twitter. Truly 21st century.

The famous food critic, Jonathan Gold, did a write-up in the LA Weekly. In the first paragraph, he describes the location we went to -- a deserted side-street in Rosemead off the 10 freeway and five minutes from our house:

http://www.laweekly.com/2009-01-29/eat-drink/the-korean-taco-justice-league-kogi-rolls-into-l-a/

Before that, there was a piece on KCRW's "Good Food," which attracted a ton of customers:

http://www.kcrw.com/etc/programs/gf/gf090124eating_on_mass_trans

This is the truck setting up before service began. There were already hundreds of people lined up.

The menu. As created by chef Roy Choi.

They said they would be at this location at 6 pm, and Chris, Kate, and I naively got there twenty minutes past six, and joined the end of the long line. Only in America would people wait for hours on a food line by choice, for kicks. For a taco.

Before service began, one of the guys on the truck came out and announced what the deal was through a megaphone. We had to order quickly (no more than 3 tacos per person), and step aside to wait for our order.

Kate was pumped. "Let's do it!"

She took advantage of the downtime by drawing pictures and practicing her letters...

"TREE."

"TREE" with a "BIRD" above it.

A picture of our house. With a tree on the left, a sun overhead, grass below, and a small white stone on the lower right that sits next to our driveway.

We took a lot of walks to the front of the line so Kate could see the cooks in action, smell the food ("Ooooh, that smells good, Momma! I'm hungry!"), and vogue for the camera. I call this one, "Gooooo Kogi!" Or, "I'm Kogi Girl!"

Oooh, "ghost Kogi truck."

This was a shot of an hour and a half later, and Chris and I were getting pooped. We kept checking in on Kate, "Are you all right? Do you want to go home?" "Do you want to hang out at Target across the street while Appa waits?" I was okay to bail at any point, if necessary. But Kate didn't want to leave. She was having a ball being out at night with the "grown-ups" and loved all the attention she was getting from the twenty-something girls on line.

Two and a half hours later (yes, I know, we're nuts), we were finally eight or so people away from the order window when suddenly, the guy with the megaphone came back out and said, "I'm sorry, guys, but I don't know if we can get to all of you tonight! We're leaving in exactly 30 minutes!"

The horror. The horror.

Kate turned to me and said, "OH, NO!! WE MIGHT NOT GET A TACO!" Chris and I had warned her all along that this was a real possibility, and she was surprisingly okay with it. Actually, everyone left on line seemed okay with it. It was an incredibly relaxed and easy-going crowd, even two and a half hours later. No angry taco mob here.

Huzzah! The short-ribs (kalbi) tacos! Of course, just as we were ordering, Kate exclaimed, "I'm not hungry!"

Was it worth the wait? Heck, no. But after waiting for three hours, it couldn't possibly meet the level of expectation that was built up. On the another hand, after waiting for three hours, Chris and I were starving, and were ecstatic to be eating, period. It was definitely tasty. Who knew Korean BBQ would go so well with a soft tortilla? But it's something I think I could make at home. Regardless, this was all about "the journey," not about the taco destination. And it was fun.

As we drove away with the heat turned up, Kate said, "Let's do it again tomorrow!" Er, maybe not.

Two days later, Kate and I both woke up with a cold, which officially makes Chris and me bad parents. Of course, on Monday morning, Kate dutifully reported all the details of her night out on the town to her preschool teachers. Hopefully, they won't call Social Services.