Sometimes when my daughter speaks, I think she’s channeling George Burns. I picture a geriatric, chain-smoking, wise-cracking little man in bifocals, living inside of her brain and playing puppet master to her sarcasm and vocabulary usage. Half of her day is spent acting like a typical two-year-old—you know, finger painting and playing with dolls, requesting carrots one minute and then swearing she hates them the next, and having a minor meltdown over the fact that I won’t let her have cupcakes for breakfast. But every now and then, she looks up at me and says something that makes me forget I’m speaking to a person who has only been on this planet for a sum total of 35 months. Here are five examples of what happens when that George Burns wannabe surfaces…
- One afternoon, when we’d just finished lunch, Gray leaned back, stuck her hand in the waistband of her pants à la Al Bundy, and asked, “Mommy, can I have a Probiotic?” Next she’ll be asking me for prune juice and a Shuffleboard set.
- Gray’s school has had several scheduled fire drills lately, and the last one was a bit jarring for the kids, as it took place right smack dab in the middle of their naptime. It also happens that it was cold and rainy that day, so the teachers had to wrap blankets around the delirious, cranky, half-asleep toddlers and drag them outside into the chilly, wet weather. This event stuck with Gray, and she has been a little nervous about fire drills ever since. On her way to school last week, she informed my husband, “I just know we are going to have another fire drill today, Daddy, and I’m going to be traumatized.” Hell, now I’m traumatized over her use of the word traumatized.
- My mother recently told Gray she was going to save up to take her Disneyland some day. The term “some day” is a timeline that’s lost on a two-year-old, so Gray has brought it up in conversation every day since. Joy. One night, when I couldn’t manage to steer her away from her relentless inquiries regarding the who, what, when, where and how of her future vacation, she got exasperated and said, ”I just can’t wait anymore. I want to go to Disneyland RIGHT NOW, Mommy!” I looked at her and responded, ”We can’t go to Disneyland right now, Gray. It’s in California, and California is far away. In fact, it’s clear on the other side of the country, so that’s not happening. It’s not like I can beam us there.” She looked at me calmly, blinked a few times and said, “You’re being awfully feisty tonight.” Remind me which one of us is the parent again?
- One evening, I was getting dressed before dinner guests arrived. Gray had accompanied me to my closet, where she was eyeing my ensemble like it was on backwards and inside out. God bless a two-year-old with strong fashion convictions! Since I’m breastfeeding Marlowe, I’m currently fairly… ahem… well endowed. Evidently this hasn’t gone unnoticed by Gray. As I pulled a tank top down over my head, she dryly said, “Your boobies aren’t really dressed right now.” I guess that’s what I get for showing a little cleavage.
- I cracked a joke the other night that, apparently, didn’t go over well. Gray’s response? “Sometimes you’re funny mommy. But not a lot.” And to think I used to get paid to make people laugh.
Until next time… Peace, Love, and Dirty Diapers,
Jenna von Oy
PS. My apologies for being a week late with this blog post. The completed manuscript for my book, Situation Momedy, has to be turned into my publisher on April 1st (and that’s no April Fool’s joke), so these past few weeks have been my crunch time. Thank you for your patience!
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