House of Estrogen

The Castrator

Overheard in our house this afternoon while Elise and Addie were playing store with a toy cash register:

Addie: I want to buy these tiles.

Elise: Hang on Addie. I have to go to the bathroom. I'll be right back.

Addie: OK. I'll put the money in the casholator.

Elise: OK. That's fine. I'll be back in a second.

Addie: OK. I want two more tiles. I'll put the money in the cashrator for you.

Elise: All right. I'm back. Did you want to buy anything else?

Addie: Yes... four more tiles. Here is the money for the castrator.

J.C. is scared... very, very scared.

 

Tattle by Voice Mail

With three girls, I hear a lot of tattling. I listen to a constant stream of, "Mom, she touched me", "Mom, she took my bracelet", "Mom, she won't get off my bed." Until today though, I had never heard tattling on my answering machine.

<BEEP>

"Hi. This is X. We were building a Lego thing, and I was saying a Lego piece was hard to do. Then Nina said, "Oh, this is hard for YOU", and then she hit me on my bottom." <Z whispering in the background, "her BUTT!">

<BEEP>

"Hi. This is Z. Nina was saying X was telling lies when she wasn't. You should check on the other call. Thanks."

I guess a few years from now I can expect tattling by text message? Can't wait!

That's Just Not Right

In the wee hours of the morning this morning, Addie cried out "Mammmmma!"  She sounded so pitiful. I got up to see what was wrong... had she had a nightmare? Was she not feeling well?  Did she have a nosebleed?  I walked in her room, and in her sad little voice, she cried, "Mommy, did you wash the dishes?"

What?!  Since when do I need an early morning housekeeping check from my three year old?

That is NOT how I wanted to start my day.

Um... OK.

On the drive to preschool this morning, we drove past a man in a convertible. Addie exclaimed, "Look at that man in that fancy car! I bet he's going to my school. Maybe he is taking somebody there. Maybe he is taking a baby there... or a rooster."

I just left that one alone. I have no idea why a man in a convertible might be taking a rooster to preschool, but I decided not to question it. It definitely gave me a morning chuckle though.

Designated Driver Not Needed

Elise and I went out for Asian food last night after her jump rope class. Regardless of how much I emphasize that I want my meal really spicy, this particular restaurant often fails in the spice department. Last night's meal was perfect though... enough spice to make me sweat. I was talking to Elise and said, "Man... this dish is really spicy tonight!" She asked, "Is it too spicy?"  I said, "No.. it is just right... it's making my face feel hot."  Then, with a very concerned look on her face, she asked, "So, will you be able to drive home?"  Huh?  I asked her what she meant. She said, "You know... when we go to the Mexican place, and you get that really spicy meal, you say that you shouldn't drive home."  Ahhh... that would be the margarita I have with the spicy food at the Mexican place!  I guess we need to have a discussion on responsible drinking and spicy food eating!  We were safe last night though... no designated driver needed for my spicy Asian noodle binge. Whew!

Vocabulary

Elise is killing me with her vocabulary choices lately. The girls have chocolate advent calendars that they open each morning. This morning, they had forgotten them when they first came downstairs, so a little later in the morning, Nina yelled, "Anybody want chocolate? Come downstairs for chocolate!"  Elise jumped up and exclaimed, "Come on Addie! Let's go get chocolates from our Venn diagrams!"

I'm just going to hope that when her teacher asks her to draw a Venn diagram that she doesn't draw an advent calendar instead!

Interesting Hobby

This was a conversation between J.C. and Elise last weekend while we were hiking.

J.C.: Hey Elise, pull up your pants!  (They were too big in the waist and hanging down around her hips)

Elise: These pants are too big. They fall down all the time, and I keep having to pull them up. It's my hobby.

Uhh... Perhaps we should work on helping her find a new hobby? Maybe ice skating? Knitting? Scrapbooking? Tying her shoes? Blowing her nose?  There are just so many great options for hobbies when you broaden the definition just a bit.

I Still Love You, Part 2

Nina, when you came home from school wearing a BRAND NEW PAIR OF JEANS that had NEVER BEEN WORN BEFORE with two holes in them and told me that you got hot, so you cut the holes to cool you off, I still loved you. You seem to have every intention of sending me to an early grave, but I do still love you. Really, I do. I think. Probably. Most Days, anyway. OK, yes, I do. I still love you.

That said, if you're going to take scissors to clothes again, could you PLEASE wear a pair of rotten old hand-me-down Old Navy jeans instead of the brand spankin' new Next ones?  You might prolong your mother's life by a few months.

Thank you.

 

My One Potty Training Post

Potty training is definitely one of my least favorite jobs as a parent. I can say with confidence that I will never look back fondly on the potty training days. This blog post is going to be short and sweet because I also know that NOBODY wants to read all about the daily trials and tribulations of potty training except for perhaps J.C.. I did have to share this one potty time conversation though.

Me: "Good job Addie! Now tell your poops bye-bye and flush the potty."

Addie: "Bye-bye poops! I love you!"

Awesome.

No Offense

JC and I were in the midst of a discussion tonight when Nina asked what we were talking about. I said, "Oh, your mama is just getting old." In true Nina form, she responded, "No offense, mama, but yeah, you are. You're getting all wrinkled in the face. No offense."

Uh... none taken?