Pronounced BAH-CHEW-CHEE, it was a nickname my sister called her first-ever niece, Miss C-Jaz. According to urbandictionary.dom, this term is used to express "an absolutely wonderful bum". And that she is, myBachoochie, my little bum cheeks.

Tuesday, September 15, 2009

She'll be ready for Kindergarten in no time!!! Never mind pre-school.

We found the Bibliotek yesterday morning at the end of the canal. It seems like an old little office building that was charmingly renovated. It had a cafe, of course, reading areas for adults with semi-comfy chairs, reading areas for children with bean bags sectioned off by theater curtains, computers with online access, and surrounding bright windows, which helped open up the space with its low ceiling and rectangular floor plan. It's definitely incomparable to the resources contained within Vancouver's downtown library, let alone Newton's or Fleetwood back home, but it serves its purpose for the Hammarby people (no further comment).

It definitely served its purpose for Miss C-Jaz, as she roamed the books, Swedish no less. She'd encourage me to read and even sent a couple suggestions my way, "Hee, Mah-ee! Read deese one." (Here, Mommy! Read this one.)

As she flipped through the books, making up her own story or sharing the commentary that went on in her head for all to hear as her cute little voice echoed within the room.

"What deese? Oooooh! Mah-ee yook. Butter-fies. Girl. Boy. A Mommy. Where's da Daddy? Oooooh! What deese? Sooo cute. Puppy. Cat. Yook! Watermemon. Umbre-yayah."

And so it went on for a good hour. I had to hold myself back from wanting to grab her and run from the boredom I was experiencing scanning Swedish kids books that made no sense, though the interesting illustrations tied me over, and of course watching her reactions and listening to her responses.

Regardless of the minor pain I was experiencing, it was obvious in Miss C-Jaz's eyes that she loved every moment. Up and down she went from the yellow bean bags to the shelves of books her little thick fingers could carry (something she inherited from me). Every page allowed her to make the smallest of discoveries as she found pictures she recognized. She was in control, and she was alone to do what she wanted with no other kids around (something she inherited from Daddy).

I was so proud of her. She was interested in books. She loved looking at the pictures. She was excited. She was so happy being there. She stole my heart, again.

I sat on the dingy yellow bean bag exasperated  from trying to keep up with her going up and down.  I was staring at my little girl in her pink top with brown, pink, and green hearts (that was still too big), which hung over her brown cargo pants that shuffled with the scurrying of her steps made by her semi-heavy white Nike runners. She was at the bookshelf hugging 2 books.  She turned her body ever so slightly to her left, looked me right in the eyes, and smiled one of the biggest grins I had ever seen.

All I could think was, "Oh, my gosh, she'll be in Kindergarten one day!" (Hopefully, with Mrs. I cannot-a believe.) That was it. I wanted to squish her. I also wanted to devise a plan to be with her in her first classroom, probably to watch over her obsessively.  For now, I get to rub off on her a little more, and her on me, thanks to the most talented, skilled, and hard working husband and Daddy ever!!!