And the Women Roared

Hello, America.  And welcome to 2017.  THE YEAR OF THE PRESCHOOLER.  (Nuff said.)

A few weeks ago, two major events occurred.  Back-to-back.  Yes, America, it’s true.  The Emma was invited to birthday parties on SATURDAY AND SUNDAY.  (The Emma is in high demand.)   Oh, also, Trumps became president and millions of people marched in protest. (OUCH, MR. TRUMP.)

First, the parties.  During the week before the parties, The Emma was sick.  Oh so very sick.  (Don’t panic, America: I’m better now.)  Despite the raging fever, I kept my eyes on the prize.  (Let this be a lesson to you, America.  In case you ever happen to face adversity.  Yes, I know it’s unlikely.)  Each morning, when I woke up, I asked  Mommy the same question: “Birthday parties?”  And she would respond with the same UNACCEPTABLY NONCOMMITAL answer: “Emma, we have to see whether you’re better by the weekend”.  Sometimes I think Mommy doesn’t appreciate how much THE PEOPLE need to see THE EMMA.  It calms them.  Also, there were two goody bags on the line. GOODY BAGS, MOMMY.

I can tell you’re stressed, America.  So I won’t keep you in suspense any longer.  I did it.  I MADE IT TO BOTH PARTIES.  Good for me.  Good for The People.  Not so good for my Jacob.

Since Daddy was taking me to the party on Saturday, someone needed to take care of Jacob.  But Mommy wanted to go march around the Boston Common.  (Whatever makes you happy, Mommy.)  Apparently Mommy had plans to meet over 100,000 people there.  So that they could scream at Mr. Donald Trump.  Along with the rest of the country.  (OUCH AGAIN, TRUMPS.)   Anyway, Mommy asked our babysitter if she could stay with Jacob while Mommy was marching.  But our babysitter also wanted to march.  So Jacob  had no choice.  He had to march too.  With Mommy.  He was not so happy about it.

Before Mommy and Jacob left, they made signs.   Because, apparently, when you’re shouting at the president, you also need to jot down a few notes.  On big paper.  (Some presidents learn better when they read.)  I made a sign too.  Because Jacob was making one.  And it’s only fair.  (Mine was bigger.)


My grandma also went to the march in Boston.  But Mommy couldn’t find her. Apparently, even though Mommy has known Grandma ALL HER LIFE, she can’t find her when there are 100,000 other people around.  (Stay focused, Mommy.  Honestly.)  And Mommy says her phone stopped working as soon as she got to the Boston Common.  So she couldn’t, for example, ask Grandma what she was wearing.  SO, EMBARRASSING, MOMMY.  (*eye roll*)  Next time we visit Grandma, I’ll point her out to you.  So this won’t happen again.

Mommy says that, with all those people, it was hard to actually march.  Instead they did a lot of standing around.  Which Jacob was REALLY NOT HAPPY about.  Finally Mommy and Jacob started to walk back to the train to go home.  And ran into some people marching.  (Face palm.  Mommy, do we also need review the difference between “standing” and “marching”?  Honestly, America, it goes in one ear . . . )  So Mommy and Jacob marched for about two blocks.  Until they got to the train.  People along the sides of the street cheered them on.  And a church played “We Shall Overcome” on their church bells.  And Mommy said that it was very moving.  YES, MOMMY, THAT’S USUALLY THE FIRST SIGN THAT YOU ARE MARCHING.  (Oh, America . . .)

But enough about that.  I know that you are hungering to hear about what The Emma has been up to.  I also went on an adventure with Mommy.  But we didn’t march anywhere.  We went to meet a lady called a “Speech Therapist”.

Apparently there are a few sounds (“r”, “th”, “j”) that I don’t make use of.  At least not too often.  (More on that later.)  I liked the speech lady.  But honestly, America, she worried me.  She seemed smart enough.  But then handed me a stack of cards WITH REALLY SIMPLE PICTURES ON THEM.  And asked me to to tell her what they were of.  Really, speech lady?  Where were you educated?  (And was Ms. DeVos bank rolling that operation?)  I tried to speak clearly so that she understood.

EMMA: Chair.  Spoon.  Family.

SPEECH LADY: Yes.  And who do you see in this family . . .?  A king and a queen and . . .

EMMA: Kids.

SPEECH LADY: Yes . . . but what do you call the kids?  A king and a queen and . . .

EMMA: A boy and a girl.

SPEECH LADY:  Like Cinderella . . . ?

Look, speech lady, HOW DO I know their names?  HAVE I MET THEM?

MOMMY: Sophia the First is a . . . ?

Mommy, do you see a purple dress on this kid?  THIS IS NO SOPHIA THE FIRST.

Anyway, after I tried my best to educate Speech Lady, she thanked me with some stickers.

SPEECH LADY: Do you want superhero stickers?  Or animal stickers?

EMMA:  Any princess stickers?

For some reason, Mommy found this HILARIOUS.

Control yourself, Mommy.  They’re just stickers.

Anyway, the only other thing I’ll mention is this.  A few days ago, I was counting.  In Spanish.  Because I do that.  (Go ahead, amigos.  Be impressed.)  And Mommy suddenly got ALL EXCITED.

Emma: Uno, dos, tres, cuatro, cinco . . .


Easy there, Mommy. You did realize that sending me to a Spanish preschool means that I can speak Spanish, right . . . ?  (Oh, Mommy.)

Mommy: Emma, count again.

Emma: Uno . . . dos . . . tres . . . cuatro . . .

Try to keep up, Mommy.


You see, America, when they make you speak three languages, it’s really UP TO YOU.  Which one you perfect.  Nuff said.

Except this:


“I am woman, hear me roar, in numbers too big to ignore . . . ” -Helen Reddy