Yes! We're here! I've been so looking forward to this stage of the girls' development. Not that I haven't enjoyed the other stages, mind you, but this is really a lot of fun: the Stage Wherein the Kids Say the Darnedest Things.
I think this lasts for a while, and probably will reach its cuteness peak when the girls are around four. But it's pretty damned cute now, hearing the funny and surprising things that are coming out of their mouths now that their verbal abilities expanding at warp-speed. I will try to refrain from posting every adorable thing they say here, because obviously the adorable things that kids say are much more adorable to their own parents than to the world at large. But I hope you'll indulge me on occasion. (This occasion being one of those.)
Elsa: (upon seeing an earthworm in the back yard): It's a eeetle worm!
Me: Yeah! Look at that. A little worm. Where do you think he's going?
Elsa: In the dirt! (In a high squeaky voice) A eetle worm, mommy!! Hi, eetle worm! (Followed by high pitched squealing noise. Perhaps Worm-ese).
Me: (laughing) Yep, that's a worm. Actually, it's a pretty big one, as worms go. (I have a flashback to seventh grade, when we dissected earthworms. The smell of formaldehyde. I wonder: at what age do you discuss dissection with kids, if it comes up? Why would it come up? Why the hell am I thinking about this?)
Elsa: (More squealing) I love him!!
Later the same day, Alastair's parents, who were up for the weekend, came by to deliver a very cool present to the girls. Jaycee had just gotten back from a business trip in New Orleans, where she'd bought some feather boas and carnival-type masks, so we could have a New Orleans-style dance party in the living room. Alastair put on some zydeco music, and the girls promptly started dancing. But when the feather boas and masks came out, they seemed slightly bewildered. They might have been a little freaked out by the masks (let's face it; masks are scary), but we made sure to play lots of "peek-a-boo" with them, so they knew it was just us behind them. This got a few smiles from Elsa. But neither of them wanted to wear masks themselves. We got Clio to wear a boa, but she then proceeded to stand still, in place, for a full five minutes, scrunching up her lips. She would not speak or move. (I may have mentioned before, this habit of Clio's to "freeze" when she feels uncomfortable in a situation.) Who knows why the boa caused her to react in this manner? Or why she didn't simply remove it?
Anyway. She "unfroze" eventually, and in the evening, when we were reviewing the day's events, as we often do, and I brought up the dance party / masks / boas, she confessed: "I didn't like that jacket."
Just two more, I promise. Yesterday afternoon, we were drawing with crayons, and the girls asked me to draw various things for them, as they often do. Clio requested a "red moon," so I drew her one, complete with craters.
Me: Here you go, Cli. Your red moon.
Clio: No, that's a pig.
Me: It's not a pig. It's the moon. Those circles aren't a pig snout, they're craters. They're big holes on the surface of the moon, and sometimes you can see them when you look up at the moon in the sky.
Clio: (after a pause). No, that's a pig, mommy.
Elsa also asked me to draw a moon. I decided to take a little artistic liberty and draw a bat flying near it. She liked this, and soon Clio was asking for a bat, too. I drew one, right over the pig, where bats are often wont to fly. A few minutes later, Elsa was doing some very enthusiastic drawing on a new piece of paper, and showed it to me:
Elsa: Mommy, I drawing a cybot!
Me: A cybot?? (Thinking, wow, that sounds very sophisticated! Has she been watching the SciFi channel on the sly?)
Elsa: No, a BOT!
Me: Oh! A bat?
Elsa: Yeah, a bat! A stinky, stinky bat!
(Don't ask me about the stinky part. I have no idea.)
I should probably get some kind of journal to write down all these crazy quips; otherwise, I'll be very tempted to abuse this medium... But feel free to do it right back at me. I actually enjoy hearing the crazy things kids say, even if they're not my own. (And since I feel like I know some of you from your comments, I almost feel like I know your kids, too.)
