Friday, May 22, 2009


The moon loves her
For she is smooth and round and wise and the moon loves itself in her.

The stars love her
For she lights up dark places and she is most awake at nighttime and the stars love themselves in her.

The sun loves her
For she is alight like the sun and warm and the sun loves itself in her.

The grass loves her
For she whispers pleasantly in the ear and she runs with the wind and the grass loves itself in her.

The water loves her
For she chuckles as she goes and she invigorates the world and the water loves itself in her.

Love loves her
For she is made of adoration and trills and rushes of giddy delighted feeling flow where she appears and Love loves itself in her.

We love her
For she is fierce and bold and always brimming with unexpected joy and we love us more with her here to share us.

Two years ago today, we met a little lady who would go on to quickly, instantly, utterly captivate our hearts. As we celebrate our Maggie today (and every day), I am torn between inconsolable sorrow that her baby self is gone, incomparable joy that her toddler self is so happy and fearless and unique, and indescribable excitement to meet the self that comes next. Happy Birthday, my bold little amazon. We love you so very much.

Monday, May 18, 2009

Saturday, May 16, 2009

Because When You Get Right Down To It, The Alphabet Just Doesn't Do Much

Max to Dad: I have a good idea, Dada. Here's what we're going to do: I'm the 'i' and you're the 'j', okay, Dad?
Dad: Okay. Wait, what? You mean, like, I'm the letter I and you're the letter J? That's what we're doing?
Max: No, no. I'm the letter I and you're the letter J.
Dad: But we're letters? Alphabet letters?
Max: Right. Exactly.
Dad: Okay.


Max: So .... so how's it going, J?
Dad: Um. Pretty good, I. How's it going with you?
Max: Good.
Dad: Good.
Max: Yeah.
Dad: Yep.


Dad: Are we still letters?
Max: Yes.
Dad: So, what should we do?
Max: We just sit together.
Dad: Okay.
Max: Say, "Okay, I."
Dad: Okay, I.
Max: Exactly. Good job, J.
Dad. Thanks, I.

Sunday, May 10, 2009

Wednesday, May 06, 2009

Happy Birthday Gramps!

Unfortunately, my dad is celebrating his birthday with a rousing game of gall bladder removal, and he is therefore most likely blowing out birthday candles over a tragic hospital jello salad instead of having cake at home. We hope to have him home in the next couple of days, fully recovered and better than ever. In the meantime, however, if and when you wish him a Happy Birthday, wish extra hard, will you? He seems to require forceful good thoughts in order to get through his birthdays in one piece sometimes.

Gramps, we love you muchly, and we are all made a little zanier, more spontaneous, and happier by the fact that you are in our lives. Happy Birthday, Papa.

Tuesday, May 05, 2009


Today's pediatrician findings:

-30 lbs. (88th %)
-36 3/4 inches tall (99th %)
-head size: 88th %
-verbal skills of an average three year old. (The doctor asked if we had ever known her to string three or four words in a sentence, and we laughed. Because she's been doing that for nine months. Her longest sentence to date was nine words: "I want to climb in that tree now, Mama.")
-Ferocity of a thousand suns.
-Not at all a fan of shots or the parents who sold her up the river and allowed the shots to happen.

-42 lbs. (94%)
-41 1/2 inches tall (94%)
-Head size: the doctor decided not to check. It's still big, it's still bold, ultrasound confirms it's nothin' but brains in there.
-Healthy as a horse. A really healthy horse. His last trip to the doctor was over a year ago, and that was for his 3 year old check up.
-verbal skills of an average 4 year old.
-Beautifully polite and cooperative, even in the face of pokings and proddings of an extemely invasive and personal sort.

The doctor summed up the whole Tillman kid thing thusly at the end of our visit: "Well, you have nice kids. And they're very smart. And really, really tall." All true.

Sunday, May 03, 2009

Because We Need A Friendlier Dialogue On The Record

Max to Maggie: Maggie! Maggie! Come here!
Maggie: I'm Maggie.
Max: I know that, Maggie. Come in here with me! Quick!
Maggie: What are you doooing, Mac?
Max: I'm hiding. I am playing legos. Come in here quick! I want you to play in here with me.
Maggie: Okay! Sure! (doesn't move)
Max: Are you coming in here, Maggie? I want you to play with me. You are my little sister. You are learning. I am teaching you to play.
Maggie: Why?
Max: Because I love you, you silly Squeaker Toy. (laughs)
Maggie: I love you too, Mac. Kweek Toy. (laughs)