Let’s play princess 

This picture provided for free by ace-clipart.com

I often remind my children to be grateful for what they have. It isn’t uncommon to hear me say things like, “Be grateful for those shoes; some children in this world, don’t have any.” “Be grateful for your sister, some children never have any sisters.” “Be grateful for that broccoli, some kids are going to bed hungry tonight.”

Yeah, yeah, yeah….I know I sound just like my mom. As I am writing I am realizing that maybe I need to stop saying these things because my children may learn to only see the negative. But, then they may turn out a lot like me and wouldn’t that be so fun?

Well, when you are a mom, you get rare moments that let you know that your kids are actually listening to you. I had one earlier this evening. It went something like this:

I was in the family room with the girls trying to pick up all the toys so that the house would be clean when LG got home. My girls were determined to play dress-up, which means that they HAVE to dump out every costume item from the dress-up chest. I told them to pick ONE thing, so that we could put the rest away. They complied. I walked out to the laundry room to change a load and this is what I heard:

Sophia (3) says, “I want to be a princess, but I can’t because I have short hair.” Abigail (5) responds, “Some princesses have short hair; you can be a princess.” Phia then says, “No,I can’t, I need long hair.”

Abigail ended the conversation just as she has been taught. She sounded like an old pro when she counseled her little sister, “Sophia, you can be a princess, and you just need to be happy that you have any hair; some people in this world don’t have any hair.”

What happens when you don’t buy your kids a dog  

This morning, as we were running out to go and help the knee-surgery friend again, Sophia pulled a rock out of her “special” drawer. I think it is a 3-yr-old thing to like rocks because every time we go out to play, she comes back in with a pocket of them. (I can faintly remember Abigail doing the same thing at this age) Well, all of the rocks are special to her and I usually can get them either back outside or in the garbage without her noticing. So, I was slightly surprised when she pulled out this rock, which is brown, has the face size of 2 quarters, and the thickness of her little finger.

I am trying to rush both Phia and Bella out the door, and to my even bigger surprise, Sophia says,”Mom, I am going to take my pet rock, O.k.?” I said, “Sure, of course you can bring your pet rock” (hmm….i didn’t know she had one, but, whatever, she probably learned about pet rocks on Sesame Street, and off we went. Well, I was very entertained the whole morning as we ran arround town; I learned more and more about this pet rock. As we were getting out of the van, Sophia says,”Mom, I can’t forget my pet rock, Pixy.” I said, “Pixy, what is that?” “That is my rock’s name, Mom”,was her reply. I said,”Did you name her?” She said, “Yes” I said,”Where did you get her name?” “I just made it up”,was the response from my all-knowing 3-year-old.

Well, she took the rock out to let it rock in the rocker at the dr’s office. She held it in her lap, talked to it, showed it off to my friend’s kid and her sister, Bella. We later went to pick up Abigail from school and we all ran to Wal-Mart to pick up some stuff for my friend. While I was trying desperately to reign my kids in and find the specific baby food on my freind’s list, Abigail and Sophia decided to fight over the rock. I reminded them to be nice and to stay by the grocery cart, and I also confiscated the rock. Sophia cried, but I told her that the rock needed a nap, and she could play with Pixy when she got home. This sufficed.

So, we get home, and the rock comes out. It is nice out today and the girls wanted to play outside. The next thing I know, Sophia is wailing. I mean absolutely freaking out, as if someone had died. I run over to where they were digging to see what the problem was. I ran as if someone had cut a finger off. Abigail quickly explained that Sophia had buried her Pet Rock and she now couldn’t find it. I didn’t want to not validate Phia’s feelings by laughing hysterically at the sight of he “rock” back where it came from in the first place. To her, this rock was buried alive.

So, I sat there for fifteen minutes, with that darn shovel, reassuring my sweet, sweet, sweet, tender-hearted daughter, that I would find Pixy and all would be well, while digging frantically. I kept coming up with different little rocks and I knew they weren’t Pixy because they weren’t even the same color or size, but after about five minutes, I was worried that I would never find her, and I thought that I could trick Phia into believing that one of the other rocks was her beloved pet. She never fell for it. I offered a prayer of thanks when I finally found her real Pixy. By this time Sophia had wandered to the other side of the yard. You would have thought I was three to hear the excited tone to my voice as I yelled over,”Sophia, I found her, I found her….Here’s Pixy.” As my 3-yr-old ran over to retrieve her most prized posession, I couldn’t help but think,”Supermom to save the day” and I handed it over with a very wide smile that said,”I love your pet-rock too.”

Watermelon 

Following up on my last entry. Kids are so FUNNY! They cannot resist at stating the obvious. When you are driving down the road you will hear, “Mom, there is a cow.” “Dad, you are driving too fast.”

At the grocery store, “There are Fruit Loops, there is Cocoa Puffs, those are Cheerios.” You get the drift.

One day, I got out one of the girls’ piggy banks and as I was getting it down off the shelf, the lid slipped off and change spilled all over the kitchen floor. It was no surprise to hear,”Mom, you spilled all the money.” I laughed and said,”Oh really, I know, Sometimes I am so clumsy, Should we pick it up?”

A little while later, in the same day, I got a watermelon out of the fridge. No joke, this is what I hear coming out of a little voice behind me, “Mom, you are fat, just like that watermelon.” Well, gee, thanks. No, “oh really”, was going to work for this offense. We have taught our girls to only refer to things as fat, not people. I think that she thought this was OK, because she was talking about the watermelon.

I tried not to crack up as I gave her the very brief reminder that it isn’t nice to call people fat. I resisted from saying what I was really thinking,”Hey, you little snot….would you like me to crack this watermelon over your head, so that you can feel what it is like to get pregnant and fat and give birth to a child that will just call you fat one day.” Of course I wouldn’t say that, all I could think of was, “Aren’t you clever with your use of words; you are only three and you just used a really good analogy.” What in the world? You know I must be a mother.