Children are always saying funny things, are they not? I really should keep a better record than I do, but I suppose typing this up sometimes is better than forgetting altogether! I could keep an entire blog full of silliness if I wanted, I suppose.
So today on the way to church at the mission (where my husband serves once per month), 8-year-old E. asked who was speaking.
“Mr. Bell,” said my husband. “Do you remember him? You’ve met him before.”
“The man who invented the telephone?”
I am not kidding.
In other news, my three-year-old honestly believes she is taking two naps per day. She tells me she takes her “light nap” and her “dark nap.” If we are headed home for bedtime, but the sun has not yet set, she gets confused. “Am I going to go home and take my light nap, or my dark nap?”
Five-year-old A. lost her first tooth yesterday. She was kind enough to wake me up four times during the night, so it was sort of like having a giant newborn. I couldn’t figure out why in the world she was using the bathroom so often. At 6:45 this morning (of course–because Sunday is the day I sleep until 7), she brought a silver dollar into our room to show it off. Later, I told her she shouldn’t be getting me up so much during the night seeing as she is big enough to lose a tooth. I didn’t get much response from her, but rather she asked me a question: “Mommy, how does the tooth fairy get into my room?”
I tried to be vague because I don’t like lying to my children, unless, of course, you count telling them that there is a tooth fairy. Anyhow, I told her I supposed she could do it however she wished, and she replied, “Really? I stayed up all night trying to find out.”
Mystery solved.
And finally, I am in mourning over Number Four, who is turning two shortly. I asked him to be my baby forever and ever, but he shook his head no. I was totally offended.
He is beginning to say all sorts of words, which is different, seeing as usually everyone else talks for him, and over him, and at him, and he just smiles benignly. So he is saying his sibling’s names, which is great, but then I asked him to say Mommy (he calls me “Mom” like he is thirty or something, and I don’t like it). He gave me two names “Mommy” (hurray!)…and also the name of his five-year-old sister.
She has been trying to steal my baby from me since he was born, and apparently it worked, at least a little.
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