While I was driving yesterday, I asked Little Man to get something out of my purse. He did, and after digging around some more, he called out, “Hey, can I have a bite?” I glanced in the rearview mirror to see what he had, as I’m not one to leave goodies in my purse, and this is what he was holding up:
I started giggling. “That isn’t candy,” I told him.
“Well, what is it?”
I hesitated. Explain the monthly joy that is uterine lining shedding or go with something simpler? “Female stuff that definitely isn’t food,” I told him.
He let it go at that, amazingly.
* * *
Last night, Sam and I were lying on the bed with LM and Baby Girl giggling, snuggling, and occasionally refereeing over who got the stuffed dog or bear when BG had one of her wild moments. After pulling LM’s hair, she quickly headbutted her father, then attempted to scratch LM’s arm. This all happened in the span of about three seconds. The girl is like a ninja.
I scolded her while Sam and LM tried to hold back giggles. No matter how much damage she does or attempts to do, they think it’s hilarious coming out of that tiny little package, which does not help things. “Baby Girl, we don’t pull hair! Or headbutt people! Or scratch people!”
She gave me a wicked grin. “Uh-huh!” she replied and threw her head back and cackled. (I’m assuming this was a coincidence, since she seems a little young to both understand all of what I said and be that sassy.)
“Look, Daddy’s crying,” I said. Sam began fake whimpering. “You hurt Daddy when you do that. We don’t hurt people, okay?”
Baby Girl’s lip quivered and she began sort of whine-crying. Lord. “Look,” I said to Sam. “She’s so sensitive and tenderhearted that it upsets her when she thinks someone is crying.”
Sam gave me a look. “She’s going to upset herself a lot when she starts preschool, then.”