But first--Grandmom? That cake you brought over? With the chocolatey goodnesss? SO GOOD. And so gone!
My 3-year-old daughter, yesterday, when I made her sit at the table to eat, put a big scowl on her face, pointed at me, and said, "Mommy, you're fired!" And no, we don't watch "The Apprentice," so we have no clue.
Alex, in his sleep last night: "Do you feel it? Will it be a happy time? Can you sense the peace?" Then he smiled, hummed a little, and stroked and patted me like a pet bunny a few times. If you knew my husband, this would be very creepy.
Isabella has taken to unveiling things with a dramatic, "voila!" Again, no idea.
Discussing one of my many neuroses, particularly that I would rather be poked with sharp sticks than have my nostrils pinched shut, Alex called me "crazy." I recited a litany of some of his past behavior that was, um...shall we say, "over the top", and told him that he was the pot calling the kettle nutso. With no hesitation, he said, "Yeah, but I have an illness. You're just crazy."
Bella, unbeknownst to us, reinstalled and screwed into place with a screwdriver the faceplates in her room that had been removed for painting. Why? "Because, if there are holes in my wall, the bugs will come in."
Alex, mocking my positioning of a cardboard box in a truckload of stuff being moved: "Do you really think it's gonna ride like that? You might as well put a sheet of loose-leaf paper on the roof!"
Me, mocking the overwhelmingly fruity air-freshener in his truck: "Dang, it smells like Sam the Froot-Loops Tucan farted in here. A lot."
Also, apparently, the child is seeing dead people. Twice now, once just with me, but once in front of Alex, she has pointed out the activities of people...where nothing was. The first time, it was "a sad lady, she is crying and crying. See her?" The next time, she got very agitated and pointed, as if following motion, saying, "Mommydaddy! See that boy? He is laughing and running, by the STREET! See? See?"
We're hoping for an active imagination, and not a toddler medium.