Laura's Post:
It's official, we have a wannabe teenager in the house:
"You don't let me do ANYTHING!"
"Stop telling me what to do!"
"You are so MEAN! Why are you SO mean?"
(We wouldn't let her hold the ice cream, only lick it... Apologies today for the excessive screaming to anyone enjoying a peaceful afternoon at Clinch Park beach, marina, or splash pad...)
This rainy morning I ask Sophia to watch our bag so no one trips over it while I get the car.
When I return a minute later, she is sitting up close, nose to canvas, diligently watching our bag.
Thank you for being so literal, honey!
Now if you could be just as literal the times I say eat your meal, please don't yell, go back to bed... : )
Laura's Post:
Sophia has been playing "Mommies and Daddies" at her preschool for a while now.
Today I arrived as she was explaining to her teacher:
"He is Joseph, he is Potiphar, and I am Potiphar's wife! We are going to put Joseph in jail."
Thankfully, her teacher is not very well acquainted with the finer details of this particular Bible story...
She accidentally knocks over a bouquet of sunflowers on the dining table spilling water everywhere:
Me: Oooh, what do you say?
Sophia: Thank you.
She observes me reaching for hot sauce to put on my brat:
Sophia: Do you like spicy?
Me: Yes, I like spicy.
Sophia: Do you like spicy because you're a man?
Me: Well, no...
Sophia: Yes! Yes, you're a man! You are a man!
Me: Yes, I know I'm a man, but some men don't like spicy, and women can like spicy, too, honey.
Sophia: Oh.
(Although, I have to admit, I do feel manlier with hot sauce ; )
Picking back up on our conversation from the other night about dental hygiene:
Sophia: When my teeth fall out, I'll be a woman!
Me: No, honey. Not yet.
Sophia: When will my teeth fall out?
Me: Well, your baby teeth will fall out when you're about six years old, then you'll grow your adult teeth.
Sophia: Oh. When will I be a woman?
Me: You'll be a young woman when you're thirteen years old.
Sophia: Oh, ok!
(She's already a little lady : )
Laura's Post:
One pair of little arms shook me awake this morning quite violently. Sophia climbed on top of me, put her face right up to mine and demanded with great urgency in a voice that was much louder than necessary: "What do ladybugs do?"
Laura: They eat aphids and poop.
Sophia: Do they poop in the toilet?
Laura: No. They poop on the grass.
Sophia: OK.
Then she climbed down and walked away.
