I said it a few weeks ago when Lord Honey played a YouTube video clip of dancing babies who also break dance, ride skateboards down flights of stairs, and roller blade. All wearing things just short of wife beater t-shirts and gold necklaces, and with moves to match the clothes, so I was justifiably freaked out. I knew immediately it was a bad idea because she found ways to use the phrase appropriately within minutes. She stopped saying it eventually and I was somewhat relieved that she was less freaked out.
Yesterday, as we drove away from the home of her future husband who was celebrating his fifth birthday in style, Claire used the phrase again.
Mommy: Did you have a good time at the party? Is Logan your boyfriend today?
Claire: He is my boyfriend every day.
Mommy: You don't say that on the days when he hits you, or when he won't let you hug him at school.
Claire: I always love him, Mommy.
Mommy: Well, I don't think you should marry him if he hits you.
Claire: Well, sometimes he hits me because I freak out.
Mommy: Why do you freak out, Claire? I don't understand.
Claire: Sometimes I think he is going to hit me and I just freak out, and then he does hit me.
Despite Claire's superior reasoning and logic, she has not yet realized the fallacy behind everybody getting a first place medal. No matter, it is enough that she got a medal, didn't fall, and only hit one gate a little tiny bit.
Joy.
My day care can beat up your day care. After the race they fed us pizza and sodas and the proud and excited parents took a lot of pictures and froze our butts off.
This is the young man Claire intends to marry. I think he shows every sign of having a soul patch and being underemployed while he skis his way through his twenties and thirties, but Claire sees her prince. Except she loves him less on the days he doesn't let her hug him, and then insists that he will not be coming to her birthday.
I'm not sure what happened at book club last night except my friends got Hannah all lit up on chocolate peanut clusters right before we left but in the car on the way home she was singing something over and over and I just couldn't get what it might be. Hannah's only song so far has been a song I think her Daddy came up with "Mommy, Mommy woo woo woo" or any permutation with Mama, Hannah, Daddy, or Car-Car (Claire). I asked Claire what Hannah was singing (she sometimes speaks Hannahese) and she didn't understand it either. Hannah's longest sentence so far has been about 4 words and most generally she uses one or two word commands (as you see at the end of her video when she says "I see! I see!!") AFter we said good night to the moon on our way in the door it finally it hit me that she was singing that perennial preschool favorite Twinkle Twinkle Little Star and my heart skipped a beat and then quickly filled with joy. Claire was just a few months younger when I captured her singing the same song, just a few days before Hannah was born. I double dog dare you not to cry, people. Double dog dare.
Claire often has a lot on her mind. Some is unfathomable. Some is hogswallop. All of it is interesting.
Claire: Daddy will you write a four on my arm
Daddy: Why?
Claire: So I can tell which one is my forearm.
Claire: Look Mama, I am not stepping cracks so I am not breaking your back.
Mommy: You're killing me, though.
Claire: I'm not killing you, it's a joke. Silly Mama.
scene: we two are all cuddled up in her bed and her face is buried in my chest when she coughs suddenly, without time to cover her mouth
Claire: I coughed on your nursies!
Mommy: That's OK, honey.
Claire: Mommy, you can cough in my bed, and fart in my bed, and burp in my bed, and you can cough in my room, and burp in my room, and fart in my room.
Mommy: Thanks.
Claire: But Daddy can't.
Claire: Can I make up a song for you Mommy?
Mommy: Sure, honey.
I love my mommy, she's so cute
La la la la la la la
I love my mommy, I love her nursies
they're so cute
Mommy Mommy woo woo woo
and I won't sneak out of my room
and I won't sneak out of my room
and I won't sneak out of my bed at night at all
Claire: I tell lots of funny jokes and sometimes I lie.
Claire's most favorite song is Tom Petty's The Waiting. She sings along where she can get the words, and despite having kids' songs and school songs and wildly inappropriate songs and the songs I sing to her down cold, with Tom Petty she gets a bit mixed up with lines like "yeah I mightta chased a couple women around, oh all it ever got me was down" and really I am not entirely sure what she thinks that line is but I was sort of surprised to hear her singing the line I used to title this post. It should sound vaguely familiar . . . remember the song you sang at school?
Make new friends, but keep the old
one is silver and the other gold
Definitely a glass half full kind of girl.
Edited with updates:
Claire: Do I have to go away from you when I am all growed up?
Mommy: No darling girl, you don't have to but when you are older you might want to go away from me, not because you don't love me but because you want to go out and experience the world. Like going to college, or travelling, or being with other people you love.
Claire: Like skiing?
Mommy: Yes.
Claire: If I am a ski teacher how many monies will I have?
Mommy: Not enough to go away from me.
Claire: Mommy?
Mommy: Yes pumpkin.
Claire: When I am all growed up you won't have to get the groceries. I'll do that for you. Because I don't ever want to go away from you. I had a dream I got the groceries for you.
Mommy: I love you.
Mother of two, step-mom to two more. Married. Work in the theatre of the absurd, behind the curtain, and pulling the strings. First daughter was a preemie, new Baby has MCADD, or Medium Chain Acyl-CoA Dehydrogenase Deficiency (Mighty Crappy Aggravating Disorder) and mild Cerebral Palsy, because the fun never stops around here. Foggy mind. If I wore a button it would say: Lose mind now, Ask me how! Things you might find here: bits and pieces of fluff about babies with wacky disorders, mommying, knitting very slowly, and stuff I don't say at work. If you want to send me free stuff just email me at gingerbblog at gmail.
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