Not a list you want to be on

On Wikipedia there is a list of notable instances where the Sports Illustrated Cover Jinx is supposed to have come into play.  Out of curiosity I just took a look, and there's a new entry:

"March 24, 2011: The BYU Cougars player Jimmer Fredette appeared on the cover after the Cougars beat Gonzaga to take them to their first Sweet 16 since 1981. In the next game, Jimmer only hit 11 of 29 shots in a loss to the Florida Gators."

Well, I suppose if you make the list it means you were on the cover of Sports Illustrated, so it's not a terrible list to be on, but it's still probably not a life goal most kids make.

Maybe there's a curse...

BYU lost in overtime to Florida in the Sweet Sixteen.  Jimmer scored a ton, but his shot was definitely off tonight.  I can't help but think if he'd been a little more on BYU probably would have won.  But still, what a great season it's been.  Great regular season, nice run in the tournament, and losing in overtime is nothing to be ashamed of. 

I've passed through the stages of grief faster than expected.  Thanks for the great year, BYU!

There is no curse, there is no curse, there is no curse...

I am thoroughly wrapped up in Jimmermania.  The newest Sports Illustrated has Jimmer on the cover...which is great on one hand, but troubling on the other.  There is a supposed "S.I. Cover Jinx" or curse that strikes the athletes and teams on the cover.  BYU plays tonight, and it will take off a little luster of my favorite team being on the cover of Sports Illustrated if BYU were to lose tonight.  Here's hoping they make it on to the Elite Eight.

The Best Seat in the House

Today they were doing some repair work on some pipes under our street.  They had to dig a hole right in front of our house.  Lizzie was very fascinated with the big trucks, as you will see in these photos.

First, she stood and stared:

Then she tried to get comfortable:

Then, she went the extra mile to ensure comfort:

Then, she decided her friends should watch too:

And finally, she tried a different angle:

All in all she was pretty entertained by the construction for about 45 minutes.  At one point she called back to me, as she was frantically waving, "They say hi to Lizzie!" because the operator of the bulldozer was waving to her.

When one of the construction workers came to tell us they'd be turning off our water for about an hour he asked Lizzie if she wanted to help them.  She nodded her head, then turned to me and said, "Shoes."  Much to her disappointment I did not let her go out.

Lizzie learns her limitations

Today, I was driving with Lizzie on a long stretch of straight road.  The sun was shining brightly, and streaming straight in on her face.  Almost immediately she said, "Stop sun.  Turn off sun."

Being the responsible parents that we are, we have one of those window shade things, but Lizzie always rips it off if it is in the window.  Sometimes, though, she'll hold the shade up in front of her face if the sun is bothering her, so I reached back and handed it to her.  She immediately threw it down.  With increasing volume she started to repeatedly yell "STOP SUN!"  I tried to explain that as soon as we turned the sun would be out of her eyes, but sometimes it is hard to reason with a two-year-old. 

Soon, she was crying and through her tears she continued to sob, "Stop sun."  Shortly before we reached the turn she went silent.  As we were waiting for the light to change and give me a green arrow, I looked back and told her we were about to turn and the sun would be out of her eyes.  Her face was turned into the side of her car seat, her shoulders were drooped, and her limbs were limp.  She looked completely defeated.  She had gone from making a request of the sun to stop shining, to defiantly ordering the sun what to do, to begging, to complete silence.  Her will was broken.

And she remained that way for the rest of the trip.  Even after we turned, she didn't move until I stopped the car when we got to Emily's building and I got in the back seat to try and cheer her up.  She had been bested by the sun, and she knew it.  Of course, that's a battle most of us will lose, but from Lizzie's tone early on I think she really thought she could command the sun to stop shining on her.  Lesson learned for Lizzie: you can't tell the sun what to do.

The Inevitable Aftermath of Building a Snowman

So snowmen melt.  Not big news to most of us, but Lizzie might not have been prepared for this.  That's on us as parents.  A bit of a rookie mistake not to mentally toughen her up for the inevitable.

The other day I looked out the window and saw that due to some warmer temperatures through the night Emily and Lizzie's snowman was now headless and the body was considerably smaller.  Lizzie came over, climbed on the couch, and looked out the window too, most likely ready to wave to her friend the snowman.

She surveyed the scene.  Her little shoulders slumped, her body seeming to melt in a reflection of the snowman outside, and she very quietly whispered, "So sad..."