Sunday, January 17, 2010

non-alarmist

Caroline: [grumpily] Daddy, I don't want you in here!

Dad: Hey, if you want to be alone, you need to ask nicely. Or else you need to go sit in your room for a while...

Caroline: Whoa whoa whoa! Let's not panic here.

Saturday, January 16, 2010

because "most modest" was already taken

"Mama, you're the most brilliant. Daddy, you're the most sensitive. Sylvie, you're the smallest. And me? I'm the greatest."

Friday, January 15, 2010

just call me the asteroid

I was cooking dinner and got a free show.

"Look Mom. I'm a mama pteranodon... I'm hatching my baby pteranodons. Oooooh... oh it hurts." She sat on nesting plastic bowls, which she identified as cracking eggs. "They're here! Look at my baby pteranodons!"

She spied a Costco-sized jar of dried parsley on the counter.

"Hey, those are leaves. Pteranodons eat leaves! I will feed my babies."

I had visions of 1000000000 parsley bits flying through the air. Permission denied.

"Okay fine, Mom. We'll just be EXTINCT."

Thursday, January 14, 2010

i suppose this is karma

Caroline: Mom, your head is really small.

Mom: Small? How is my gigantor head small?

Caroline: Well it's maybe not that your head is small. It's probably just because your body is so big.

Wednesday, January 13, 2010

pretzel fail

Chuck walked into the living room and saw her sitting on the couch, upright with her foot over her head.

"Um, Daddy, I seem to be a little stuck."

Tuesday, January 12, 2010

malpractice suit in the making

Caroline has decided she is a veterinarian. She spends a lot of time lifting Reuben's ears and peering into the vast bassetty darkness, looking for earwax, which she calls "gross peanut butter." Or holding the cats' faces and evaluating the "glitteriness" of their eyes as an indicator of their health. We spend a lot of time telling her to leave the pets alone. Luckily, she is sorta gentle. Luckier still, our pets are extremely tolerant.

Today when I saw her holding the [too obliging] cat's tail and moving it slowly in a wave, I asked her to let go.

"What? I'm just making sure it works."

I told her to let. go.

"Mom. I think she swallowed a snake and now it's in her tail. We need to do an x-ray."

I removed the cat.

"Great! [patented arms-crossed preschooler stomp here] So if that snake bites her guts, it's all your fault."

Sunday, January 10, 2010

honesty is refreshing

Early this morning, she was laying next to her dad, laughing and chatting and being normally silly. She stopped talking abruptly, stared at her dad, and announced: "You smell like stink, Daddy."

We broke out into laughter, but she needed to get her point across and seriously and emphatically repeated.

"Daddy. You really smell like stink."

Friday, January 8, 2010

budget cuts may be an obstacle

A rare nighttime drive with her yielded an interesting idea. Imagine, if you will, all this said super fast, without pause, and with the most excited 3 year old voice everrrr:

"Hey! Hey! I have a great idea. We should take the car lights and the street lights and some of the red, yellow, and green hangy lights; and we should wrap em all up in a big ball. And we'd shoot them through outer space to the moon. An' an' an' and then the moon would be REALLY SUPER BRIGHT and RAINBOWISH and REALLY BRIGHT LIKE THE SUN, and then we could see at night. That's kind of pretty great for ideas, right Mama? A bright rainbow moon?"

I agreed.

"Yeah. We should forward that one to NASA!"*


[*Not sure how she even knows what NASA is, but guessing since they are talking planets and Earth at preschool, it came up there. We aren't like Rick Moranis in Parenthood, promise.]

when drag is a drag

Caroline got a book set of Olivia for Christmas, and it included a CD of Dame Edna reading the book aloud. She was so psyched to listen and "read" along with the bejeweled lady on the cover. As soon as Chuck hit the play button, she was startled.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Why is this man reading?"

Thursday, January 7, 2010

don your beret

"Mom. Ok, let's be French cats. I will be Sophia the French cat and you can be Josie the French cat."

I was uncertain how this would be different from my usual role as Josie the cat without any nationality.

"Ok. I'll start, Mom. Le mew. And le mew mew le mew."

I tried to stifle laughter.

"Josie the French cat, you need to talk to me in French. Le mew!!"

I le mewed back.

"Le mew?"

I le mewed again.

"Ooohhhh. LE MEW. Ok, I le get what you mew."