Warning: This post talks about "private parts." You have been warned.
She's laying on the couch, no diaper, legs splayed open.
Touching her private parts she says, "Owie mommy. Owie mommy." There is no diaper rash, no redness, nothing that I can really see. But she insists. "Owie mommy. Owie mommy."
Being the touchy-feely mommy that I am, "owie mommy" always gets the same response and so she says:
"Kiss it mommy. Kiss it mommy."
I start laughing. "I can't kiss it Annie. You're fine sweetie. OH! Look! Yo Gabba is on!"
I try distraction.
"Kiiiiisssss it mommy."
I kind of panic. I am not thinking clearly enough to do what my mom later told me to do- which is kiss my fingers, and then place them on her owie. Nope. I'm just thinking "how do I explain to her why I can't kiss it." And there I am really trying to explain to her why I cannot kiss her private-part-owie.
My own steadfast teaching, that kissing makes everything better, backfires. In a rage she sits up and puts her hands on my cheeks and screams:
"KISS IT MOOOOOOMMMMMYYYYY. KISS IT. KISS IT. PLEASE."
I've never seen her so mad at me. She starts crying. And there I sit, a blubbering idiot, with fearful eyes, my head between her legs- and her hands grabbing my face- telling her things like, "Nobody is allowed to kiss your private parts. Never!" and "One day this story will be really embarrassing, you'll be really glad I didn't do it" and "I'm so sorry you have an owie, that's the kind of owie that only a diaper can kiss better, let the diaper kiss it!"
What? What in the world is wrong with me?
Mom moment failure.
I'm cooking dinner and she is in the living room watching Nick Jr. and playing with her dolls. The little guy on TV tells her to name the things that she sees on the beach and I hear her: Sand. And water. And birdies. And fishies. And apple pet.
Apple pet? I stop stirring. She says it again. Apple pet. What in the world is an apple pet?
I walk in the room and there on the center of the screen is a bright red crab scurrying across the sand. She knows lots of animals but we've never talked about a crab. She sees his bright red body and thinks he's an apple... that has grown legs and a mouth... therefore...
he is an apple pet.
Brilliant little child she is.
Every time we see the crab now I say, "OH! apple pet!"
She looks at me impatiently, "No mommy. It's a crab!"
I am strapping her into her car seat last week, when she grabs my face in her hands...
"I think you're CUTE mommy!"
During her first thunderstorm last week we are explaining that the big booms and bolts of lightning are supposed to happen during a rain storm. That means the sky is making lots of rain to feed the trees and plants and that's a good thing. That means they are doing a good job.
Well, anytime you do a "good job" at our house, I do a victory dance and then I yell "HOORAY for Annie!!!" Most of our days are spent screaming, dancing, painting, and yelling hooray while simultaneously kissing things. So as the thunder went off, she realized it was doing what it was supposed to do, which meant it was doing a good job.
For the better part of an hour she sat in front of her window watching the lighting and thunder, screaming and dancing with her hands above her head, "Hooray thunder! hooray thunder! Hooooooraaaaayyyy thunder!"
As I tucked her into bed late last night I told her, "Sleep well doodle bug! In the morning we will have cinnamon toast and yogurt."
She sits straight up, eyes closed because she is mostly asleep, and pulls her pacifier out of her mouth.
"No! Bacon. And Eggs. And Pancakes. And waffles."
She lays back down and I don't hear a peep from her until this morning at 9:00 a.m.
"I awake mommy. I need cimamamon toast and yogurt mommy."
I love being her mom.
For more Annie pics using my new iphone app, Camera +, check out my flicker link: