My Love Don't Costa Thing
- T (age 5): Julia, what's your last name?
- Me: Costa.
- T: Like you costa-lot?
- Me: Yeah.
- T: Like for marriage?
- Me: Um...
I commuted in a haze this morning - checking my phone every fifteen seconds feeling scared and sad. Then, somewhere between Fulton and Brooklyn Bridge, I remembered this exchange from last night and started laughing out loud. It’s worth sharing…
Me: Hey T, YOU turn 5 next week. Which sort of cupcakes are your favorite?
T: Big ones.
Me: Okay, bu -
T: REALLY big ones.
Two ennnnnormously belated happy birthdays.
1) K. The person who makes me choose sitting on the floor with pizza and Party Down over just about anything else. As smart as they come, she’ll wear heels in a heatwave and smile through the whole damn thing. Unmatchable bartending skills + phone call advice. Kyrabelle, I’m forever a week behind but here’s wishing you (officially, on the internet) a happy 26th.
[Photo: SF, September 2011. We’re pointing at the street sign for a reason, I’m sure, I just can’t remember it at the moment.]
2) Baby b. She’s the girl who makes you pull the stroller over in the entryway of Dave & Buster’s. Her song is on and not dancing is not an option. The girl who shrugs and mumbles an incredulous, “I just get so ‘cited (excited),” when I inquire as to why she’s bitten her boyfriend Alex. The girl who wants to twirl in the kitchen to the Beach Boys and lets me pull up her socks over her pajamas so they won’t fall off (Kareem Abdul Jabbar Style).
Bambina: thanks for the 80-100ish weekends of hang out time we’ve fit into your 3 little years.
World: watch out for this one. You have no idea.
[Photo: selfies in the elevator. PS: Normally I’m NO PHOTOS EVER but this one is too cute and I’ve already insta-ed so…]
To-do’s I didn’t this weekend:
- My taxes
- The laundry
- Enough sleep
To-done’s that were never to-do’s:
- Taught the bambina about The Beach Boys (“we listen Cally-for-ya girls another time, please?”) and that turtleneck removal automatically turns the wearer into Rapunzel/ a nun
- Made cocoa brownies
- Judged Taylor Swift
The soon-to-be-3-year-old and I spent 80% of yesterday in the company of one another and no one else. By 11am I learned one thing: the girl has suddenly become, can’t sleep, can’t eat, can’t not bring it up in conversation OBSESSED with humpback whales.
What does this mean?
It’s good to have interests.
Me: B, what’s on your Christmas/Birthday list this year?
The nearly-9-year-old: Do you want the handwritten or typed version? The typed has web ID numbers on it for Toys R Us.
Me: Bell, what would you like for Christmas?
The 2.5-year-old: Um, pasigulls.
2.5 y/o: Yeah. Thank you.
Two exchanges from the last 48 hours that made me diiiie.
Car ride home.
The-nearly-9-year-old: Where do you live again, Julia?
B: Why don’t you live in Manhattan?
Me: Oh, I just like Brooklyn. I have more space, which I like.
B: Yeah. There’s not a lot of space in the city but we have so many activities.
Me: That’s right! Good point.
B: I just sometimes wish you lived closer.
Me: Me too, bud.
I’d finally wrestled the bambina to the ground (so I could get her shoes on, so we could go to the playground) and while I was hunched over, velcro-ing, she gave me an unprompted kiss on the side of my face.
Me: That was a sweet kiss. Thank you, Bella.
b: You a sweet girl, Julia. So I give you sweet kiss.
Killed me dead.
2. The fact that the 2.5-year-old asked a slew of questions about Hurricane “Shandy.”
3. This exchange:
B (the nearly-9-year-old): Hey Julia, lemme see your phone. I want to show you something.
B: C’mon. Please?
Me: You can tell me what it’s for, B. I’m still going to be excited even if it’s not a surprise.
B: Okay, well there’s this thing, it’s called Instagram.
Me: You know, I’ve actually heard of it.
B: Wait, you’ve heard of it? Seriously?