Let’s face it. Way back when, when you were imagining having children, you never really imagined you would be that informed about another being’s bowel movements.
I know that Bean is picking these up from other people. It’s just that somewhere something gets shifted in translation.
“I’m Ok with that.”
As in “yes mommy. I can go to grans house even if I skip quiet time. I’m OK with that. ”
Example: “bobby eats his boogers. It’s gross, for really.”
Reason 589 why my kid is cool. When given the choice between Build-a-Bear and the park, she chooses the park.
I was informed this morning, by Bean, that I needed Lip Chap. And here I was afraid that all the quirky verbal things of childhood has gone the way of no-gurt. Thank goodness I was wrong! Bring on the lip chap!
Pshaw! You may think a woman scorned is not to be trifled with. But let me tell you, that pales in comparison to a 3 1/2-year-old whose routine has been messed with. Unforgiving, that was Bean tonight. Of course, we should have known better but she was having such a good time at the baseball game. I mean, there was ice cream in a hat! Moonwalks! Music! Did I mention the ice cream? IN A HAT?!
But she isn’t entirely night trained potty-wise, so there had to be an exchange of underpants for a pull-up, even after she fell asleep in the car. And that my friends, that is where it all went horribly wrong, where the chaos of the universe was made obvious to all present.
Routine people. Preschoolers like their routine. Like little OCD fascists. Also, they like to have their cake and eat it too. Who knew?