The Course of True Love Never Did Run Smooth

My kids routinely shuffle through a varied list of potential marriage partners--a list which, if we took out each of them (since they mostly just want to marry each other, and yes, that does mean three sisters fighting over who gets Eric), would be reduced to a few neighbor kids, a couple friends from preschool, and one 'lucky' colleague of mine who is the latest object of Mia's five-year old affection (much to his chagrin & my ongoing entertainment, but that's another story).

Anyway, backseat discussions that involve wedding planning are semi-standard fare around here. This morning on the way to preschool Eric & Mercie were discussing how many potential mates they could have--could Eric marry two princesses or three, could Mercie marry both Jaxon and Aiden, and if so, could she still marry Eric, and how exactly would that work if they married each other and a few other people, too?

Somewhere in the conversation Eric remembered the first real love of his life, his beautiful, blond, blue-eyed babysitter Erynn, who he's had a flaming crush on pretty much since he got off the plane from China. Perking up when I heard her name, I asked Eric if he would marry Erynn when he grew up.

"No way," he asserted.

"But I thought you liked Erynn the best."

"I DO like her the best, but I can't MARRY her."

"Why not?"

As if I'm the dumbest, most dense mommy on the planet--which from his perspective I probably am--he slowly explained, "Because I cannot marry her, because I cannot kiss her."

"Um, why can't you kiss her?"

"Because I can't REACH HER!"

This morning I had a small audience while applying makeup.

Mercie: "Wow--you look pretty, Mommy. Like a pretty witch instead of just a regular one."

Um, thanks...?

Sibling Issues: How It Begins

Mercie: "ERIC! Why do you keep trying to sit by me??!!!"

Eric: "Because I jes' love you."

Long pause. Mommy is in the other room feeling all warm & fuzzy over this rare moment of sibling affection.

Mercie: "Well, I actually don't like you much, but I guess you can sit by me."

Ah, well. I'm pretty sure I disliked a couple of my sisters rather intensely until we were in our twenties or so.

Nudity, Equine-style

Mia: "Can I take off all of my clothes to play horsey?"

Mom: "Uh, why do you need to take off your clothes to play horsey?"

Mia: "Because I'm going to be a BROWN horsey."

Mom: "What are you going to wear to be a brown horsey?"

Mia: "My SKIN!"

Mom: "Well, you probably should at least wear underwear."

Mia: "Why? Horses don't."

They Don't Miss a Thing...

Grace: Mommy, you're not going to believe this! Drake's mom shaves her LEGS!!!

Mom: Actually, most ladies shave their legs. They they like their legs to feel smooth and soft, so they shave all the hair off. That's a pretty normal thing.

Grace looks skeptical. She runs an experimental hand over my bare leg.

Grace: Oh! And you are one of the ladies who likes to have whisker-y legs, right?

The World According to Mia

"Wow, Satan is like the worstest kid ever."

"When I die I'm going to be creamed, not like putting myself in a box, but that other thing, like creamed except we're not supposed to talk about it because it makes me scared. WHY ARE WE TALKING ABOUT THIS??? AUGH!!!!" Mia, you're the one who started talking about it. "Well, why did you let me?"

"Dear Heavenly Father, thankful for this day, thankful for the food, thankful for my kindergarten, thankful for Eric could not poop in his underwear because that's so disgusting, thankful that Gracie can change him and not me, in the name of Jesus Christ, amen."

A Rose By Any Other Name

Having a sister 23 years younger than me leads to some interesting conversations as the kiddles try to sort out this "aunt" who seems more like a cousin.

Mia: What is the name of Emma's mom?

Me: Grandma

Grace: No, what is her REAL name?

Me: Sherry, but we call her Grandma.

Mia: That's weird. Do we call her Grandma because she IS a grandma or because she just likes that?

Me: Uh, she's YOUR Grandma. You know, Grandma--my mom, your grandma. That one.

Grace: Whhaaaaaattt?

Mia: Oh. My. Gosh. This is just too weird.

Through the Eyes of Gracie

Mommy: I showed my friends some pictures of you, and I was sooooo happy when they thought that I looked like you, Grace! That was a very nice compliment, because you are beautiful, so if they think I look like you, that means that I am beautiful, too.

Grace: That's not a truth. I don't look like you at all.

Ouch.

Mommy: Why exactly do you not look like me? (gee, let's think here--is it your gorgeous brown skin compared to my splotchy pinky-whitey skin? Or your eyes that we lovingly refer to as 'chocolate,' compared with mine that you kids call 'grass eyes'? Or is it your tightly curled tresses as opposed to my limp locks? Maybe the fact that you barely hit 50 pounds and I, uh, passed that marker on the scale years ago? Which specific dissimilarity did you have in mind?)

Grace: Duh, Mom. You have big breasties; I don't.

Of course. Because other than that we'd practically be twinners.

My Little Charming

The other night Eric curled up on my lap, getting in some good snuggletime before bed. In one of his most loquacious moments ever, he shared the following:


"When I grow up I am going to be a prince, like Prince Phillip, and have a real sword. I am not going to be like Prince Eric--he's boring [yeah, I always thought Ariel's prince was a total wuss, too]. Even though my name is Eric. I will still be Eric, but I will be like Prince Phillip. With a sword. And I will fight the naughty guys. And Adalyn will be my princess, because she is beautiful. And she will be the princess, like Princess Aurora, and wear a beautiful dress, and I will be her prince and I will save her from the naughty things, like dragons, and I will kick them and hit them with my sword, and say 'AUUUUUUHHHH,' and they will be so scared. And I will be scared, too, because dragons are scary. And witches are scary. But I will still fight them even if I am scared, because I will be the prince. Princes have to fight. With swords. Sorry, sweetie-mommy, they HAVE to. That's it. The end. And, and, and--Adalyn will be the princess and I will marry that. Okay, that's all."



Who needs Jane Austen with romance like this flying around the house?

The List: Next Generation

Yesterday Mia entertained herself for more than an hour writing all the words she knows how to spell in a wire-bound notebook. I was mightily impressed with the sheer quantity of words she has committed to memory--she filled pages and pages with her sprawling script.

When she was done she brought me a torn-out sheet. "This is a list of my favorite things," my future spelling bee champ informed her doting mama.

The List read as follows:

T-E-M-P-L-E

G-O-D

H-A-N-N-A-H

M-I-L-E-Y

D-E-L-I-A, with M-O-M added in after, in case I missed the reference, because she's smart enough to recognize that her penchant for referring to her mother by middle name is not the norm.

I'm thinking, A.) at least God and temple made it on the list ahead of Disney's Princess of Pop, B.) at least Mom made the list, even in dead last position, and C.) should I be worried that two of her five favorite things are variations of what starts with "Hannah" and ends with "Montana?"