Moments

Yesterday I got a note from a parent of one of BubTar's classmates. A girl classmate. Inviting him to an impromptu birthday lunch at the local Chuck E. Cheese today. It isn't really a party, just lunch with a few of her friends, and BubTar was invited. After we were done discussing the lunch date, BubTar was quiet for a bit. Then he piped up, "Mom, you know my cheeks turn red when I look at [girl classmate's name]." I worked REALLY hard not to giggle (because let's face it, could that even be more adorable?) and I said, "Oh really?" And then he blurted out, "ButIdon'tloveher!"

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Yesterday KayTar pulled cotton from the end of a Q-tip and stuck it to her upper lip (like a white mustache) and said, "I'm old!" then she took it off and said, "I'm new!"

Logical, isn't she?

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BubTar received his first friend phone call last night. From a DIFFERENT little girl in his class. Little kids on the phone are so funny, they look just like miniature teenagers. Josh asked me where the little girl got our number. We sent birthday invites home this week with our number on it for RSVPing. I guess we can expect more phone calls. After he was off the phone, I asked what they talked about. He said, "You know (yes, he starts almost every sentence with "you know"), my birthday, [other girl classmate]'s birthday. Stuff." I prodded, "Anything else?" He was clearly put out by this and sighed, "Just stuff, Mom. I don't know." Evidently he SOUNDS like a miniature teenager, too.

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Every day when I study, KayTar sits next to me at the big table. She grumbles under her breath about "doing my work" and demands various colors of note cards.

"KayTar, don't you want to go play blocks? Or puzzles? Or with your dollhouse?"
"No. Just doing MY work. Purple card?"
"You already have a purple, just use that one. (yes, I sort of hoard my note cards)
"Nooo. TWO purples. More purple. MORE PURPLE."
"Okay. One more purple."
"Fanks. Weave you awone. (leave me alone) Doing MY work."
If I keep trying to engage her, she says, "Stop talking! I not wistenining (listening) to you! Just WORKING."

Occasionally, when she gets to a break in her work, she points to words in my textbook and says, "Say 'What does that say?'" So I do, and usually, she reads it, regardless of the fact that I happen to be studying a college level anatomy text and that words like endocrine and thyroid aren't typical fare for the three year old set.



PS: When you think everyone has stopped reading your blog because you've only gotten a handful of comments in as many days and you're wondering if you somehow said something offensive in one of your posts...it's probably a good idea to check your spam folder, because it might be overzealously eating ALL of your comments and discovering all those backlogged comments will be a little like Christmas day...or some other day when you discover that everyone doesn't really hate you. You know, in case that ever happens to you. This is purely hypothetical, of course.