The cracking up continues.
Today Marissa was tooling around on the trikes at Sedona’s preschool, saying something that sounded suspiciously like a pretty little hum.
I said, “You always have a song in your heart, don’t you?”
She said rather emphatically, “No. I do not.”
“You don’t?” I asked.
She responded, “I am not singing! It is a poem.”
Oh. So sorry to have insulted your rhythmic sensibilities there, m’dear.
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The other day she announced that she does not like it when people are in the bathroom helping her potty train “because they clap and say things like ‘Good Job!’”
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No doubt about it. She’s three. And three for me is equal parts adorable and equal parts torture. They’re close to being babies and still chubby cheeked and fascinated by the world around them (“Mommy, look! A Ladybug! Oooooh, a ladybug! Come see!”), and yet they’re trying so hard to be independent and find out who they are separate from us. The key word there is hard. Oh boy. But how do you resist this precious, cuddly face? (And really, she’s still a pretty easygoing, happy kid. I have to give her credit for that! The proof is in her joyous little songs poems that burst forth on a regular basis!)
1 comment:
Yes, its a lovely kind of torture at times this dependant independance - I am hoping 4 is a bit less bossy and that Mel is more easy going. It is the little things really, like chosing our clothes and combing our hair, brushing our teeth that make my head spin in the mornings. Mornings are so hard for us. Arugh! Marissa is A-D-O-R-A-B-L-E!
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