We've been trying to take advantage of the wonderful fall weather by spending lots of time outside. Lucy loves collecting things in her nature tote on our adventures but Craig, unwisely, pointed out dog poop on one such adventure. Now Lucy likes to look for acorns, berries, flowers, rocks - and poop. But she made up a little song to help her remember one important point:
When you find a rock, pick it up and put it in your tote.
When you find a acorn, put it in your tote.
When you find a leaf, put it in your tote.
When you find poop, don't put it in your tote - because poop is YUCKY!
(You'll have to imagine the flourish she adds to that last word, but as much as I try not to laugh in my attempt to subtlety discourage bathroom humor, I just can't hear it without laughing.)
Me: That was a long day, I'm pooped.
Lucy: Mommy, we're the same - I'm pooping!
Me:: No, that's not the same! Run to the potty! (We made it)
She's very motherly with her baby and all of her stuffed animals but don't try and tell her she is their mother unless you want to be corrected because "I'm not a mommy, I don't have a ponytail" - I guess I haven't done a good job lately wearing my hair down :-)
Yesterday while we were playing with her barn toy, she picked up the green felt square that is supposed to represent grass, put it on my head and told me I was a nun and to sing. Now she expects a full rendition of "How do you solve a problem like Maria" anytime she puts it on my head, or her head, or baby's head - but not Jonah, I asked but she laughed because "boys aren't nuns."
Her newest mis-lyric: My God is so strong, so strong and so mighty, there's nothing his mom can not do - for you! Perhaps I should be worried about her wanting to convert to Catholicism.
She loves dips. She used to call them by their color: red dip = ketchup, white dip = sour cream or ranch, green dip = guacamole. Now she calls them by their real names but that is a tad dangerous when it comes to ranch. Her pronunciation of "ran" sounds very similar to "bit" so hopefully she doesn't need to request any ranch dressing in public for a while.
This morning as I was making oatmeal, Lucy helped me crack the egg into a bowl. I turned around, grabbed a fork to scrambled the egg but when I started mixing, Lucy started to cry. Apparently in those 15 seconds, she had befriended the egg and now that "egg friend" was all scrambled and she couldn't talk to him anymore. I tried to convince her that you can talk to a scrambled egg just the same as a whole egg yolk but she wasn't buying it.
Ever wonder if there's cake and ice cream in Heaven? Maybe not, but I'm willing to bet this is the best birthday your Mom has ever had.
ReplyDeleteThinking of you and praying for all of you that miss her today.
(P.S. Thanks for sharing all the Lucy-isms, especially her awesome song. It reminds me of how we had to teach our oldest not to pick up cigarette butts while on a walk. She thought they were interesting.)