Lately, Sophie's developed a habit of closing every door in the apartment behind her "so that any bugs don't get in." Then she slowly re-opens it, looks at the floor, and screams, "The bugs are coming! The bugs are coming! RUUUUUUNNNNNN!"
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After helping Sophie pat herself dry in the bathroom, she told me her "bagino" was all clean.
"Um...I think you mean 'vagina,' sweetheart," I corrected gently.
"NO!" Sophie screamed in my face. "It is MY bagino, and I can call it whatever I want!"
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Sophie woke up talking about birds in her hands and explained that a nice fox slept in bed with her and we must save him from the mean witch. We grabbed the (pretend) birds, the (pretend) fox, detangling spray, toothpaste, Kandoo, Dora doll, Charleete, the TV remote, a button that fell off our couch pillow, and a Polly Pocket, and we hid from the witch under the dining room table. Sophie kept looking at me in panic, putting her finger over her mouth and whispering, "Ssshh." Suddenly, she scooted from under the table and told me it was safe to come out.
"Guess what, Ma-ma! The mean witch went to jail and she get in love with the police-es man and now she is our friend!"
Did I mention this all occurred before 7am?--------------------------------------------------------
After raising her voice to me, I informed Sophie that I didn't like to be spoken to that way.
"But it's not fair!" she cried.
"What's not fair? Do you even know what that means?" I asked.
"Yes. It means Emma will hit me."
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Sophie told me that her Barbie went poop and she needed a wipe to clean her up. Reluctantly, I gave her one. After a few minutes, I discovered her cleansing Barbie's nether regions and making a diaper for her out of Kleenex.
"Mommy, I need another wipe! Barbie's got diaper-rhea!"
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"Mommy? My eye hurts."
"I'm sorry, honey. Why does it hurt?"
"Because I poked it with my finger."
"Well...maybe if you stop poking yourself in the eye, then your eye won't hurt anymore."
"Hey, that's a good idea. Thank you, Mama!"
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Soph asked me very politely if she could please watch the mean green man. I had no clue what she was talking about. After 20 minutes of grueling tears, tantrums, pleading, etc., we finally figured out that she wanted the Grinch. Two minutes later, she's walking in circles and happily shouting "Hi, Grunch! Hi!" at the TV. Meanwhile, I'm still huddled in a ball on the floor, completely spent from all the turmoil caused by one little weird-named Dr. Seuss dude.
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While waiting in line to pay for our groceries, Sophie started dancing her heart out in the middle of the store. She was laughing and shouting, "I really love to dance dance dance dance..." at the top of her lungs. A woman running (yes, full-on running, for whatever reason) down the aisle sorta tripped over Sophie. She turned to me and instructed me through gritted teeth to "please control my child." For the first time ever in my life, I had the perfect reply: "Actually? I'm gonna join her." And I did. In my purple sweatpants and crazy bedhead, I stepped out of line and started jumping up and down with Sophie. The look on the woman's face was priceless. She was not pleased...in fact, she swore at me as she stormed away. I just smiled, waved, and shouted, "You have a great day, too!" I started giggling, which started Sophie giggling. I'm sure we looked like total fools, but dancing with my daughter - and for one sweet moment, not giving a rip what anyone thought of either of us - was soooooo AWESOME. Who knew being called a crazy bitch could make a person's day?
1 comment:
Awesome. Totally awesome. I think my favorite is "It's MY bagino and I can call it whatever I want." That and the poking herself in the eye.
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