Lulz.

Emiyl was sitting at the table eating her breakfast (multigrain pancakes! Hey, internet, do I get any crunchy-granola points for that?) and I realized she didn't have any underwear on.

Me: Emmy, why aren't you wearing underwear?

Emmy: MOOOMMMMM, I'm GOING COMMANDO because it FEELS GOOD.

Me: Well, I don't want to see your privates, especially not at the table that we eat at.

Emmy: Oh. Well. I guess I could go find some.

Baby Fever.

(Note: The title has nothing to do with the post.)

Emmy, sitting in her car seat on the way home from daycare: Mommy, will you make me another CD?

Me: Of course I will. What do you want on it?

Emmy: Um, the No One* song, the Faster Disaster** song, um, more Hannah and um, Spiderman songs and um, um, CINDERELLA SONGS! Yeah. Cinderella songs. And the spider song, too.

Me: For sure, baby. It'll have to wait for this weekend though.

Emmy: Ok.


*No One, Alicia Keys
**I Run To You, Lady Antebellum


I love that her musical taste is broad. The CD in her stereo right now has some oldies, some devil incarnate Hannah Montana, some Judy Garland, Julie Andrews and a couple covers. Nothing too cool, but beyond the average kid CD. So this one I'm going to add some stuff she's never heard. I'm so excited to watch her taste develop and grow. We'll be driving and she has clear and distinct likes and dislikes. Journey? "Turn it up!" Kanye West? "I like this song, Mommy!"

I think the next CD I make her, after this one, is going to be indie stuff. It has to be fast for her though. She likes stuff she can dance to.

Kids.

Oh, And...

Emmy: Mommy, I want to close the door.

Me: HA! I don't think so. (This was moments after her friend, with a toy screwdriver, pried loose the vent on the floor in Emily's room and I had to go up and fix it.)

Emily: But moooooom, I HAVE TO close it.

Me: Why, exactly, do you need to close it?

Emily: Because the monsters are coming in. DUH.

Day One of Moving

Me, to Emily; So are you excited about helping us move today?

Emily: Um, well, I kind of want to hang out with Maddie first. Ok? And is there candy?


Gotta love kids. Today is the mine and The Girlfriend's first anniversary, and the day that we're moving into an apartment together. We're moving all of my stuff in today, and will be moving her stuff in throughout the week, and next weekend. I'm pretty stoked.

I'm also pretty tired. There was a lot of crap that went down yesterday with the Landlord and things not being ready when they should have been. So instead of starting the move in about ten minutes, we can't start until two. I imagine we'll be moving until about four or five, and then Emily is going to The Girlfriend's mom's house for a sleepover. Anyone have good dinner suggestions for a semi-romantic dinner? I'm still trying to figure it all out.

Coffee is the nectar of the gods.

Boobs. Again.

Emily caught wind of a conversation about sensitive nipples and said, Mom, I think I don't have just nipples. I have LITTLE TINY BOOBIES, ok?

Puberty.

Setting: Emily and I are in the bathroom. I am peeing, the water is running and she is taking her shirt off. (She's just recently figured out a way to get her shirt off by herself. She pulls the head hole over and behind her head, and then pulls it off her arms. Which means there's a point when the shirt is behind her neck and her arms are still in the holes, kind of as if she were wearing a shawl.)

Emmy: Momma, look!

Me: What baby?

Emmy: I have nipples.

Me: ... Most people do.

Emmy: Aren't they pretty?

Me: Emmy, you're beautiful.

Emmy: Um, yeah. I know. I mean thank you! Someday? Mommy, I'll have boobies like you. And they'll be biiiig and they'll bounce when I jump!

Me, as Emmy is jumping up and down while trying to look at her chest: Um, Emmy, it's not nice to talk about boobies.

Emmy: Ok. But someday I'll have 'em. When I'm older. Cuz now I'm a kid. So I just have nipples.

At least she knows her body parts, right?

Going On Sixteen...

Me: Emmy, put your damned backpack away. I've been cleaning all day and I don't want it out right now.

Emmy: Mom, I'm checking my homework.

Me: You're three. You don't have homework.

Emmy: Are you KIDDING ME?

Me: Don't yell at me Em- EMILY GRACE I SAID PUT IT AWAY.

Emmy, with an eyeroll: You're killing me mom, really, you are. Just killing me. I'll put it away. Chill.