I took the girl out of daycare today to have a little daddy-daughter time. Last week, grandpa and I took The Boy out to see a movie, so I figured I ought to do the same for the daughter. So we went out and had pizza, which she loved. CiCi's has macaroni pizza, which the daughter adores, so she got to fill up there and flirt with the cops that had come in for lunch. She's definitely not hurting in the self-confidence category.
Then we went to the movies. The trip to the theatre was filled with my daughter asking me questions and explaining to me why she can't read: "I'm not old enough yet, daddy." "Daddy, is the light red?" "Is the light red, daddy?" "Daddy, if the lights red, can you go?" "Daddy, what comes after red?" "Is there a red light daddy?" etc.
Then we get to the movies. The girl loved going into the theater, where she saw lights on the floor. Then she asked me where the movie was, because she couldn't see the TV. As I explained the projector concept to her, the commercials came on, and she was enthralled with the lights at the back of the theater.
Unfortunately, that seemed to be the high point of the movie going experience for her, as she had considerable difficulty sitting still for the feature: Cars, which is another hit from Pixar, and I'm interested in seeing what they can do with Ratatouille, their next attempt.
She spent most of the movie running about, or trying to at least, or else she was pointing at the lights in the projector booth. And when the movie ended, she couldn't get out fast enough. Seriously. "Daddy, let's go! It's over! Daddy, your legs work, which means they aren't broken." Yes, the daughter told me that my legs weren't broken to get me moving.
We then went to see her new school, and dropped her off at the daycare, which really upset her. She did not want to go back to daycare, as she wanted to go home, but she found something she enjoyed at daycare, so all's well that ends well. Not bad at all.