Here’s some more nauseating kid stuff for you. I’m sorry -- I don’t want to, I HAVE to. I am Mother, hear me roar.
Sparky has been cracking me up lately with the funny words toddlers accidentally invent. For instance, the grocery store is the greasy store, and McDonald’s is IckDonald’s (boy, is THAT one gonna stick). And she’s been asking for her violin every day, to my bewilderment. Finally figured out that “violin” is what I call a “vitamin.”
Sparky’s speech patterns are pretty typical for an almost-three-year-old, unlike those of her sister, who was, shall we say, advanced. For example, here’s a story I wrote two years ago, days after Smedley’s third birthday.
Well, it was bound to happen. Chas and I were both fired this morning.
Ever been given the axe by a three-year-old? Not unlike being fired by a parrot, but with darker undertones. Smedley asked me something I couldn't make out this morning as I ate my oatmeal, and it apparently really irked her, because she then said, "You're fired. You're both fired." Not unlike Donald Trump on his reality TV show commercials -- dispassionate, bloodless -- and that must be where she picked it up. Unless she means it, in which case I expect to find my bags on the lawn this evening.
So far no vote from Sparky, who was at the time happily disemboweling a baby hotdog (did you know it was possible to SKIN one of those? I didn't).
Smedley may be reacting to the questionable level of parenting going on lately. Mommy and Daddy are running neck-and-neck in the Dope Slap department. The other night as I got Smedley ready for bed, and she was being truly infuriating, I demanded an apology "for being a rotten little INSERT SPLIT-SECOND BAD DECISION HERE." Guess what came back to me, word for word, in perfect, crisp little syllables? "I’M SORRY FOR BEING A ROTTEN LITTLE . . .”
Meanwhile, Daddy has been hard at work developing Smedley's anatomical vocabulary, apparently. The other day she was, well, rapping is about the best way to describe it, and pointing alternately at face and bum: "Face cheeks, butt cheeks, face cheeks, butt cheeks . . . " Ni-i-ice.
Sparky pulls herself up to the coffee table and screams. Ah, the simple life. May it be that simple for y'all today.
That was 2004. Back now to the present day, 2006. Sparky calls me “Stupid Little Mommy” when I’m being obstinate.
The more things change, the more they stay the same, right?