Sunday, February 26, 2012

Fin put her hands on my face and kissed me.

"Mom, what's that thing on your face?"

Me, dismissively, "Nothing, Fin. Probably just a little bump."

"No, Mom. That thing. That pokey thing."

"Ugh, Fin! It's nothing! Just a bump or a little pimple or something."


"Okay, Finley. It's a little hair. It's no big deal, now please hush."

Fin is incredulous. "You mean a whisker like Daddy has?!"

And that's what's known as getting your ass kicked by a four year old's honesty and microscopic attention to detail. 

*Anyone seen my tweezers?

Thursday, February 23, 2012

Lately my daughter insists we refer to each other as Penelope. Her father is addressed as Steve, which bugs him to no end.  (I think he may be wondering what our mailman's name is.)  And the dog fluctuates between Pluto or Frank.

Typical scene in our house:

[knock knock]

"No one's home!" I call.


[renewed vigorous knocking]

*sigh*  "Come in."

"Heeeelloooooooooo, Penelope!"

"Well, hello yourself, Penelope.  How are you?"

 "I'm fabulous, Penelope!  I came to show you my new guinea pig [stuffed].  His name is Ben."

I immediately flash on THIS movie.  

"I'm sorry, Penelope.  I don't allow rodents in my house.  Please remove it or I will have to ask you to leave."

Fin Penelope is flustered.

"But... but...  he's really nice and fluffy!  He won't bite you, I promise.  See, look!"  [pretends stuffed guinea pig is licking me]

I shriek theatrically.  Our dog Howard Frank begins barking and comes running because he is concerned he is missing out on something unbelievably exciting.  He sees the stuffed toy and tries to snatch it from Fin Penelope.

"HOWARD-- I MEAN, FRANK!  NO!  PWOTZ, FRANK!"  [she means plotz]

(Yes, my daughter commands my chihuahua in German.  What.)

Fin's Penelope's daddy walks into the room to see what all the commotion is about.

"Hi, Steve!  Wanna see my guinea pig?  His name's Ben."

Daddy Steve misses this entire greeting as he is intent on forcing the dog to be absolutely quiet and nonmoving via the sheer force of his angry face, having been unsuccessful in his attempt to catch him.


"Wha?  Steve?  Steve who?  Howard, knock it off!" 

Daddy Steve has forgotten who he is, which pisses Fin  Penelope off.

"Daddeeeeeee!  I mean, Steve!  YOU'RE Steve!  And that's not Howard, that's Pluto!  I mean Frank!  Penelope, tell him!"

I'm distracted because I am too busy Googling if copious amounts of wine is an effective treatment for schizophrenia.  For me. 

When I get home from work in the evening I always tell Fin about the different dogs I groomed that day.

"Fin, a man came in with two teeny tiny chihuahuas to have their nails trimmed. And one of the dogs had a completely bald head. Isn't that funny?"

"I bet it looked just like Daddy's head!"

Heh heh.

Friday, February 17, 2012

Every kid runs through the house with their arms out to the side making airplane noises.

My kid sees her reflection in the full length mirror and stops to tell herself, 

"Have a nice flight!"

Wednesday, February 15, 2012

I was feeling quite nostalgic tonight as I began reading Alice In Wonderland to Finley for the first time. The book itself was given to me by my own mother when I was very small and some of my earliest memories were of her reading it to me at bedtime. I have been waiting years to share it with my daughter and I was brimming with sentimentality and expectation.

Since my old hardback copy of the classic has few pictures, I was doing my best to incorporate drama into my reading. I continually watched Fin's face from the corner of my eye for signs of captivation.

At a particularly thrilling moment I interjected with a gasp! and turned to look at her with exaggerated anticipation. To my delight, the look on her face was one of shock!


I couldn't wait to hear what she had to say about Alice and the bottle marked 'Drink Me.'

"Yes, Fin?? What do you think is going to happen next??"

"Um... Mom. You just spit on my arm when you were reading. It was pretty gross."

Aaaaand... scene.

Sunday, February 12, 2012

Many times when Fin blurts out something totally off the wall, I can usually figure out where she came up with it by asking, "Who says that?!"  Lots of times it's either from a tv show or movie.  Sometimes she's picked it up from another kid.  And sometimes...  well, sometimes it's just her

Rewind to her shower the other night.  The water was a bit too cold and as it warmed up she threw her head back and said, 

"Oooooh yeeeeah."

A frown may have crossed my face, but I didn't think much about it until she said it again.  Multiple times in a row.  With increasing intensity.  

"Ooooh yeeeah.  Oooooh yeeeeeeeeeeah!  OOOOOH YEEEEEEEEEEEAH!!!"

"FINLEY KATE!  Why are you saying that?!"

"Cause the warm water feels good."  Tone = duh.

"Well, it's kind of rude... and... er... inappropriate."

"Why?"  [Insert wide-eyed innocent look here.]

"...  Well...  I don't...  because.  Because it is.  Because I said so.  Just... don't.  Who says that?  Did you hear it on tv?" This is me, stammering like an idiot and thinking to myself, 'Dear God, what has she been watching?!'

"No, Momma.  No one says it.  Just me.La dee da.  No big deal.

Now at this point I feel the need to state that I monitor closely what my kid watches on tv.  Multiple children's shows deemed appropriate by others - no judgement! - have been banned at our house (I'm talking to you, Spongebob). 

And, no offense to the mister, but she definitely has not overheard it elsewhere in our house.  *ahem*

So far I have yet to break her of this particular expletive.  Apparently warm air from the blow dryer warrants an "Oooh YEEEAH!"  As does fresh pj's, snuggling down in her bed under the covers and kicking off her shoes after a long day.

Oh the joys of having a dramatic child?

Yeah, I'm going with that.

Saturday, February 11, 2012

Who, indeed?

I'm guessing Fin's daycare has dance or music time at some point during the day.  Awesome way to burn off some of that 4 year old energy.  She randomly bursts into songs she's learned at daycare all the time.  Sometimes she teaches me one I've never heard.  Sometimes they're old classics I grew up on.  

The other day I overheard her singing to herself in the other room:

"Who let the dogs out?!  HOOEY!  HHHHOOEY HHHHOOEY!"

Hooey?  Wha? 

"Fin, what's that song you're singing?  Come in here and sing it for me."

Crazy hopping and dancing commences.

"Who let the dogs out?!  HOOEY!  HHHHOOEY HHHHOOEY!"

Hooey.  Huh.  Not quiet how I remember it.

We all recall how annoyingly catchy this song was when it first came out.  It is once again playing on a loop in my brain except now I can't stop singing 'Hooey!  Hhhhooey hhhhooey!"

Aaaaaand, now it's stuck in yours.  You're welcome.  HOOEY!

Sunday, February 5, 2012

Eh, not so much.

"Hey, Mom!  You wanna come to the baf'room with me because you love me so much?"

Saturday, February 4, 2012

"Mom, what if my eyes start to bleed and then the doctor has to take them out of my head and I can't see anymore? That was my worst dream ever."


Friday, February 3, 2012

I have occasionally been known to burst loudly into song in the privacy of my own home.  This may or may not annoy the crap out of my kid.  

Okay, it does.

This morning as we were getting ready I was on an Elvis kick.

"We can't go on together! With suspicious miii-hi-hiinds... [insert irritating falsetto here] Suspicious minds!"
Fin puts her hand on her hip and demands,  
 "Mom, why on Earf would we go somewhere wif suspicious mice??"

Not quite what The King intended.

Thursday, February 2, 2012

As I was getting Fin out of the bathtub tonight I noticed a small bump on her little butt cheek. I dabbed a bit of medicine on it and she yelped.

"Mom, what are you doing?!"

"I'm putting a little medicine on this bump. It's just a little pimple, no big deal. The medicine will make it go away soon."

"Mom, no!!  Don't touch it!! That is my special plimple! It gives me super powers!"

Okay, I fully realize that I am first time mom who is still learning the ropes of parenting.  I understand my child is only four years old and I have many experiences ahead of me that will render me speechless.  But seriously, I had no words.  I don't believe there is an educated parental response to this. 

My child claims the 'plimple' on her ass gives her super powers.  I'd say she totally wins this round.