Emma on a Wednesday

• Asks if I would like to buy a milkshake for fifty five cents. I reply that I have no money. She whips out a coin from her cash register and gives it to me "as a loant." I hand her back the coin to pay for my milkshake. She bites the coin, grinds her teeth on it, removes it from her mouth, holds it up to the light, studies it closely, chucks it in the register and sweetly says, "Thank you." Then she asks if I would like another milkshake. I point out that I have yet to receive the first one. She explains that I ordered a chocolate shake, but she is all out of chocolate. Would I like a strawberry shake instead? I tell her of course, that will be fine. She smiles and says politely, "That will be fifty five cents."
• Proclaims proudly that 1+1=2, 2+2=4, and 4+4=8. I confirm she is correct, and she brags that she is really good at "pat." "Um, I think you mean math," I say. But she insists, "No, it's pat. Grandma Kitty told me so." Then she says that 11+11=12. When I clarify that the answer is actually 22, she begins shrieking. Loudly. After semi-calmness has been restored, I determine that we should take a break from math for awhile because clearly it is upsetting her. "Yes," Em agrees, "we shouldn't do any more pat today because the numbers are not listening to me."
• Decides that we should make a scarecrow out of "leaves and sticks and raisins for the eyes and dog poop for the mouth." She starts picking up potential scarecrow materials off the ground and then tries to bring her grungy collection into the car. I explain that Stella (our car) does not like dirty things inside of her because they make her sad, so we will have to make a scarecrow another time. Em accepts this, returning everything to its rightful place. She remains quiet the entire ride home. As we pull in front of our apartment, she suddenly announces aloud to the car, "I am sorry you are sad Stella, but my scarecrow is mad at you."
• When I turn on her sound machine and Ocean Wonders and nightlight moon and everything else that signals nap time, Em starts screaming from the bathroom, "No, not yet, not yet! Turn them off, turn them off, turn them OFF!" I do not turn them off. She pleads, "Please Mommy, please, I'm not done cleaning my extra skin and I have to make myself beautiful. Turn them off!" I do not turn them off. She wails, "I don't want to take a nap yet, I still have to put my makeup on so I can go to work. Turn them off!" I do not turn them off. Finally she bursts into her room, glowers at me with hands on hips and shouts, "Why don't you almost listen to me?! Every time I talk and talk and you don't almost listen to me! You are a naughty girl Mommy! A naughty, naughty girl!"
• Plugs her nose as Sophie enters the room and says, "Uh oh, I smell something." Sophie parrots back, "Uh-oh. Uh-oh." "You said it, sister," Emma retorts.