May 2013


The other night we were trying to change gears to bedtime mode, and my associate told our daughter it was time to brush her teeth.  These are not direct quotes, but the exchange went something like this:

Him: Time to go brush your teeth.

Her: Not brush my teeth.

Him: Brush your teeth (in a sort of sing-song voice).

Her: Not brush my teeth (in total sing-song voice).

And then there was a pause after her voice lifted that last line into song, and as I washed dishes and listened to them I thought “Oh my god, this is it.  This is when the music starts and my life actually has a musical number.  Finally!”  But all she did was blow into her kazoo, say something toddler-ornery, and run away from her dad.

So, so close.

Advertisements

If Forrest Gump was set decades later, each time the story checked in on Jenny she would have been a Suicide Girl, then into burlesque, then in a roller derby league, then a doula, and then she would have died from celiac disease.

“Toddler” is the incorrect word to use to describe this particular phase of personhood.  To “toddle” means to walk unsteadily, and typically once a kid is considered a toddler he/she can walk fine, just either super slow or fast and headed toward the street.  I think it’s pretty well known that they are crazy, unreasonable, hilarious, and adorable and I don’t know what word could best describe that, though I did just describe the unstable best friend character from a movie or TV show.  My daughter is in that Rayann Walker/Kim Kelly phase currently. Or, to reference a more popular TV show: She is a mix of Phoebe/Joey/and Monica (specifically Monica watching someone about to put feet on her coffee table).  Here are some recent favorite things from my Phoemonicoey:

I used my stern voice to tell her to stop unraveling something after the second time she did it.  She looked like she was going to cry, and then reached down to an empty box that was next to her, put it on her head, and said “I’m a fireman.”

She put the same box on her head, walked up to me and with her eyes peering through the handle said “I’m Batman,” and then growled at me.  I told her to tell her father, and she walked two rooms over with the box on her head and stopped to growl and say “I’m Batman” again.

Note: Always have an empty Target diaper box on hand – it’s great for all the pets/kids.

When I came home from a run and her pop was making breakfast she was alone at the table, mid-conversation on her banana (her phone calls are “hello?  Okay, bye”).

She gets to pick out or at least approve her outfits.  I dressed her in black leggings and a green and khaki skirt, and she picked out her brown t-shirt with a skateboarding hot dog on it (her favorite, thanks Aunt Xie) and said “I’m dressed like a princess.”  Yes.

She also picked up a crumb of something on her plate, put it on her head and said “Do you like my princess hat?”  I don’t know what she thinks a princess is.

Her response to “because why?” when she says “because” is “because of goats” (or “ghosts”, we’re not positive, though either response is equally not applicable to whatever is being discussed).

She was in her kitchen tower and we were both drinking something, so I tapped her glass and said “cheers.”  Every time I did this I said “cheers” and she said “tower.”

She has created her own knock knock joke (which seems to come from a botched attempt to teach her “the banana/orange” joke).  “orange who?” “that’s a good orange” (loudly pretends to eat an orange)

Instead of saying “I’m scared” she says “I’m scary” (things she is scared of: the stepmother in “Cinderella,” smoke detectors, the church scene in “Wallace and Grommit’s Curse of the Were-Rabbit,” and thunder)

Hearing her talk to her baby dolls and stuffed animals is always adorable.  She is very encouraging and tells them “good job” a lot.  Which means we’re good parents, right?

She learned the words to “Tomorrow” from Annie in a very short period of time, but she can’t remember to say “please.”

She likes to hold earthworms but wants me to remove all inch worms that she finds (which, from a gardener’s POV makes sense, but she doesn’t know that).

When we go to places like museums or the nature center at Maymont she is always, always most excited by steps and ramps.

She never talks about something she has without mentioning who gave it to her or she thinks gave it to her (unless it came from her parents, then she doesn’t seem to care).

recharging.

If you have a kid who says funny things, I encourage you to write it down.  I don’t know that I would remember half of this stuff if I didn’t document it.