Annie to her music box, as she pulls the string, “Alexa! Turn on Let It Go.”
Annie thinks that three-leaf clovers are the special ones, and we have the luckiest yard on earth.
[Annie, 45 minutes after bedtime. Her 3rd appearance at her door, and perhaps the 10th time we’ve intervened since 7:30.]
Annie: Mom, can I have one more question?
Me: Annie, I’m really disappointed to see you out of bed. This is the time to be resting our bodies.
Annie: But Mom, I needed to tell you that Paul shared some of his lovies with me.
Me: Okay, but I don’t understand why you needed to get out of bed and tell me that, or—Paul shouldn’t be—he shouldn’t be out of bed either, even sharing lovies.
Annie: But Mom, I just wanted to tell you about kindness.
Me, with a softer tone: Oh gosh, Annie. I do, I do like hearing about kindness. But—
Annie: And it’s a dog family. Okay, goodnight.
Annie: Mom, do you know who I love the most?
Annie: My whole family.
Me: That’s LOVELY, Annie. Goodnight.
[10 minutes later, still listening to them chatter]
Paul wants to know, “Is every single thing in the world a shape?”
Overheard from my work-from-home desk.
Annie, in crisis: Oh NO!!
Bryan, soothing: Oh Paul, that’s Annie’s toy.
Paul, explaining calmly with 3-yo logic: No, see, but I WANT it.
The old gray mare, she ate what she used to eat,
ate what she used to eat,
ate what she used to eat.
The old gray mare, she ate what she used to eat, a million years ago.
On our walk this morning, Annie told me she had an idea for Sous’ next birthday present. Earnestly:
“Come here so she doesn’t hear!”
I bend down to the stroller to receive this secret. Lips against my ear:
“It’s a—what’s her favorite color?”
“I don’t know, she’s a… Um, red?”
“It’s a RED, CHEWY STICK!!”
Me: What are you up to, Paul?
Paul: Well, I’m feeling a little bit playish. Will you play with me?
Paul calls the weather radar: rain-yard. As in, “Can I see the rain-yard on your phone?” That is all.