Our Girl

... is a very, very, very weird girl. In the car on the way to Sweden, she got to thinking about Harry Potter. She says his uncle and aunt should be named Vermin and Clunia (which is an Asian clown, according to her). Perhaps.

She is a bit paranoid these days about bees and wasps, not because *I* was stung by one, but because she thinks she herself has been “pinched” or “bitten” by one a couple of times now. I haven’t noticed any giant red boils on her anywhere, so I doubt it. A few days ago she managed to use a Pringles can to catch a wasp that was in her room. I told her to put it on the balcony, and I would let it out later after it had calmed down (not wanting another sting myself). Except I forgot. The next day there was a slightly dead wasp in the Pringles can. Despite her fear of living wasps, she felt nothing but pity for the dead one. Hence the wasp grave on our balcony.



Sometimes I feel like I just can’t win with Hannah. In the course of cleaning her room (which is finally done, thank the seven dwarves), Hannah has been reintroduced to the large number and variety of her toys. She dug right into the Polly Pockets and came up with new and glamorous sartorial choices for those little blobs of plastic and rubber. She held one of her concoctions up and asked what I thought. “Pretty.” She thought Polly looked more like a homeless child.

John has been reading Hannah The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy at bedtime. I think Zaphod Beeblebrox is her favorite character. Every time some alien shows up unannounced, which happens fairly often, she says, “Zaphod Beeblebrox?” before he can finish the sentence. This may explain a lot about her in the future.