Goddess of Cute


Rhiannon and I were hiking by Piestawa Peak in northern Phoenix this afternoon. There is absolutely no cover to be found, no escape from the direct sunlight aside from what small shade our hats provided. As we walked, Rhiannon, perched atop my shoulders (she is making me *quite* fit this way), commented on the clouds to the north, thunderheads birthing in the 100+ degree heat.

"Dad!"

"Yes, Rhiannon?"

"I bet that's where the gods live."

"Where?"

"In the clouds! DUH!"

"What makes you think that?"

She sighs. "Because that's where gods live!" I half expect her to end the exclamation with "idiot", but she does not. I'm relieved. Usually daughters wait until adolescence to think their dads are idiots, and I was worried that Rhiannon was starting early.

Rhiannon continues. "I am a goddess."

I stop walking.

"It's true. Emma says that she is a goddess and that all the other girls in our class are goddesses, too. But she's wrong. I'm the only goddess there."

"Rhiannon, in order for you to be a goddess, one of your parents has to be a god."

She considers this and says, "well, I am half a goddess then, and half a person."

Well, Rhiannon thinks one of her parents is a god. I refrain from pressing the issue because it might not be either of her traditional parents, but some third divine entity.

Rhiannon continues her monologue. "I AM half a goddess."

"Which half?" I ask her, jokingly. But she is quite serious.

"My left half," she says. And she means it. "My right half always gets booboos and hurts, but my left half is always fine. So that's the goddess half."

"Alrighty then."

The case is closed. I continue walking, and she continues observing her long-lost home in the clouds, almost able to reach them from my shoulders. She resigns herself to her mortal chariot.

"Can I have some Oreos?"

Hmm. Food of the gods. "Of course." I hand some cookies up to her, and crumbs begin dusting my hat, chocolate mana from heaven.

Rhiannon. Divinely Cute.

Andrew (Papa)

(Note: The art in this post was done by my friend and colleague Bob Crumb in 2008).

$@%^#&


Rhiannon. Cursed with cuteness.

Andrew (Papa)

Unforgettable


A short one for you, gentle readers, this evening:

Rhiannon and I were driving home from the zoo this weekend and Rhiannon is telling me about something that happened to her recently. I forget the story she was telling, but something in it did not seem to jibe with what I recalled. I let her know this, and I tried to get her to recall what had really happened. Instead of agreeing with me, she said:

"Dad, you are at the age when you start forgetting stuff."

O.o

Rhiannon. Unforgettably Cute.

My Own Little Editor


Rhiannon asked for another "Rhiannon Story" tonight as she was under the covers, dimly lit by her Tinkerbel nightlight. Earlier this evening she had been transfixed by theabove image from World of Warcraft's Crystalsong Forest, and fell in love, not just with the blue-eyed blond, but also with the purple trees. So I told her a story about one.

"Once upon a time, there was a girl named Rhiannon who had bright blue eyes and long, golden hair."

I pause. Rhiannon looks at me expectantly, and she is somewhat surprised that I told the story correctly this time.

"Dad! Tell the story!"

"Okay. So one day Rhiannon was by herself in the forest when she came upon a great, purple tree. Its trunk and limbs were purple; its leaves were purple. And stuck into the bottom of the tree was a tap like you have in your bathroom sink."

Rhiannon gasps. I love when she does this because it tells me that I am giving her something new, surprising her.

"Rhiannon was thirsty so she turned on the tap, and do you know what came out?"

"No."

"Grape juice!"

Gasp.

"So Rhiannon had a drink when all of a sudden she heard a 'thunk' on the ground behind her."

Rhiannon's eyes get wide.

"She looked on the ground and saw that a piece of fruit had fallen from one of the branches. The fruit was square."

Gasp.

"But Rhiannon was hungry, so she took a bite, and do you know what that fruit tasted like?"

"No."

"Grilled cheese sandwich!"

Gasp. Laughter. Then she cuts it. "I know! I know! All the fruit in the tree tastes like other food like hot dogs and celery. And they are not purple, but all different colors!"

"Wonderful, Rhiannon." I continue. "So Rhiannon leaves the tree and goes to the river to have another drink, but when she dips her hands into the water, the river turns purple."

Gasp.

"She finishes her hands and it is time to go home. She can't wait to see what else is in the forest. The end."

"That was a good one, dad."

"Thank you, Rhiannon."

"I want to tell YOU a RhianRun story now."

This is going to be interesting. She has never told me one before, but the name is slightly different. She begins.

"Once upon a time there was a girl named RhianRun. And she had dark blue eyes and long black hair. And one day she turned into a kitty. The end!"

(I am not making this up).

Rhiannon cackles with laughter; she really amuses herself, and then it is a kiss and to bed. She is excited about tomorrow for no other reason than it is a new day. Would that all of us shared her enthusiasm and expectation of the good that comes along with the sunrise.

Rhiannon. Storied Cuteness.

Andrew (Papa)