Elle-isms

Capturing the hilariously entertaining things that erupt from my not-yet-3-year-old's mouth is nearly impossible with the rate at which they emerge. And doing so over a 3 month period just adds to the challenge. So here is a smattering of the more recent Elle-isms.

While trying to get Jack to catch a frisbee: "Jack, you're incorrigible"

At least she listens to me, even if she does project the quasi-discipline she hears onto the dog...

E: God lives in my heart.

Me: That's right, he does!

E: But not in my eyes, cause they blink.

Me: (Pause)

E: And not in my hair.

E: And not in my mouth. Because I probably might bite him.

How does one respond to that, anyway?

Upon coming downstairs in the morning-

E: Where are my shoes?

Me: Oh, we left them upstairs!

E: We forgot! We for-really-got!

Driving by a man in a Subway sandwich costume with just his legs sticking out of the bottom:

Me: Elle, do you see that dancing sandwich?

E: Yes, we can eat him! But we'll have to take the legs off first.

At Costco, wanting to play with the swingset on display way up on a super high platform

E: Can you get me up there to play?

Me: It's too high-- I'm not tall enough!

E: Maybe you could turn into a giraffe, then you'd be tall enough!

Out of the blue riding in the car-

E: Inside a volcano is magma.

Pretending to plant a garden in the yard

Me: That's a very nice garden Elle.

Elle: I am extremely very clever, Mom.

Indeed, Elle. Indeed.

Berry fun

I was determined to take Elle strawberry picking this year. It just seemed like such a quaint, picturesque thing to do, especially for my berry-adoring child who may actually have been cast as Strawberry Shortcake if latter weren't so... well... animated.

But with every attempted picking outing, something came up. It rained. I had to work late. It rained again. Etc. I became convinced of the anti-berry conspiracy when we finally made it to the farm only to find a sign that said "Closed for Irrigation". Seriously?! My suspicions for fraudulent activity were confirmed when we returned the following morning and the Strawberry Workers admitted that there was a family gathering the day before and there wasn't anyone available to staff the crop. I knew it! Irrigation Schmirrigation.

So at last we arrived armed with sunscreen and strict Mom instructions not to eat the berries before they were washed. The big white bucket was bestowed upon us.

And picking commenced. Elle laboriously scrutinized each berry, casting most aside with the disapproving announcement of "Too mushy" or "Too yellow, still needs to grow".

And although I fully expected her to nosh on the pesticide coated fruit the whole time, she never sampled the first one... although she did continuously call out her neighboring pickers for similar offenses. "Mommy, he's EATING one! He didn't wash it first!" Little tattletale.

Her high standards paid off, and I'm convinced we ended up with a bucket of the least mushy, most red and fully grown strawberries in the field.

It must have been that extra irrigation...

Easter was, admittedly, eons ago. Nonetheless, I can provide (horribly belated) photo documentation that we joyfully celebrated our Savior's resurrection, competitively hunted eggs, and frolicked in the holiday fun with good friends.

At first, she was definitely into quality over quantity, and by "quality", of course I mean only pink and purple eggs. I desperately tried to steer her to the golden eggs, which could be exchanged for a valuable gift, but she wasn't interested. Why settle for gold when there are pink ones out there? Who cares if the coveted pink eggs are filled with choking hazards trinkets and mostly melted candy?

Not pink? Not a keeper.

This is concentration. Or obstipation.

The best Easter friends pull your wagon.

And let you pull theirs.

They give the best hugs.

And make the silliest of faces.

And they empathize when your last cupcake is no more.

And they forgive you for taking a month and a half to write your Easter post.

Happy Easter.

Guest post

Mommy has emerged from her blogging hibernation, or so she says she will if I could ever possibly develop the skill of independent play. But that's another story/post. While she's trying to organize the photos and stories and hilariously entertaining commentary that has been my life for the past few months, I thought I'd catch you up with the two biggies. Now that I'm nearing 3 (August 6th people, mark your calendars), I've mastered typing and basic html. Wish Mom would teach me the strikethrough though. Anyway, back to the big news.

Number 1. Mommy is board certified! After relentless studying for approximately 1/6th of my life, she is officially a board certified radiologist. Yay Mommy! Definite cause for celebration...

Number 2.

Yep, Mommy and Daddy are brave enough to try for another kid as beautiful, charming, smart, clever, and generally awesome as me. I've decided I want a baby brother named Cinderella, although M & D don't seem crazy about that idea. I've got time to persuade. The new baby is scheduled to arrive via stork on January 8th, which is Daddy's birthday. I'm pretty excited. I've already claimed the task of burping the baby. Can I have another cupcake?