Memory Girl and Spotter Girl

String Bean has become my memory lately. She finishes my sentences for me, recalls my shopping lists for me, and when I wander into a room only to find I can’t remember why I went there, she’s right behind me to say “You were going to feed the dog,” putting me back on track. She’s very proud of this skill and likes to call herself my “memory girl.” I think it’s fitting that she’s my memory now, since I had an excellent memory right up until the moment I gave birth to her, and it’s been slipping ever since.

The other day in the car she was reminding me what a great memory she has by remembering something for me (I honestly can’t recall what, I’ll have to ask her later), when Peanut tried pitching in and helping, by providing a list of nonsense words that just confused us all. String Bean pointed out that Peanut isn’t much help in the remembering department, but that she’s great at spotting things, like bugs no one else would see or planes so far away they’re practically invisible. This is a nice balance to her sister, because while String Bean can remember crazy things like what color shoes you were wearing when she met you two years ago, she can’t find her own shoes even when they’re sitting right next to her.

“I’m your memory girl, and she’s your spotter girl,” String Bean proudly proclaimed, and for the rest of the day, that’s what they were. They took turns showing off their impressive skills, with String Bean remembering things I hadn’t even forgotten yet (“don’t forget to feed us lunch!”) and Peanut spotting things that didn’t even exist (a bug that turned out to be a piece of lint, which she refused to believe no matter how many times I showed it to her). It devolved into a silly exercise of patience on my part, with having to acknowledge all of that remembering and spotting, even when I didn’t need it.

It’s remarkable how few things get truly lost in our chaotic house of too many things. Either String Bean vividly remembers watching someone kick it under the couch three months ago, or Peanut, at a glance, can spot it in the shadows between the couch and the wall. Overall, they’re handy things to have around: a memory girl and a spotter girl.

Lost Girl

For years, my oldest couldn’t find anything you sent her to look for. If it was time to go out, and her sweatshirt was on the couch next to her, and you pointed directly at it and told her to put it on, she’d stand up and spin in circles, looking everywhere but directly at the sweatshirt, claiming she couldn’t find it. If she desperately needed her pink glittery shoes to complete her princess outfit, and I told her they were in the bin with all of her other shoes, she’d rummage around the bin, growing increasingly distressed, then come to me in near tears because she couldn’t find them. I’d go to help her and find the shoes, right on top of the pile.

Now, aside from this fleeting blindness, she was a remarkably bright child, able to undo childproof locks as a toddler, skilled in dressing and undressing herself from a young age, able to write her name before she was two years old. So why was she so incapable of finding anything? She knew how to open the fridge, remove the ice cream, whipped cream, chocolate sauce and raspberries, lining them up neatly on the counter before demanding dessert, but if you sent her back to the fridge for her milk or juice sippy cup, she’d stand before the open door, just staring blankly at the contents of the fridge, shaking her head. “Where?” she’d ask over and over, until I finally stepped up and handed it to her.

I was torn between thinking that she was so busy downloading new, more important information into her brain that she couldn’t be bothered with simple tasks like finding the toy she’d left right in the middle of the floor, and thinking it was all some passive-aggressive ploy for attention (after all, it started just after her sister was born). At any rate, now that she’s four, we seem to finally be past the “Where? I can’t find it!” phase. Knowing her left from her right has helped a lot with that, since I can now give her actual directions toward locating an object I can see. Having a baby sister also helps, as every search turns into a competitive treasure hunt, and big sister is not one to lose any competition.