Hello, Officer?

When extreme injustice occurs, my two-year-old knows just what to do. She called the police.

"Hello, Officer? Come take my daddy away, please. He bought Tea, not Coke, and I don't like Tea. 'Kay, thanks, bye."

Thankfully she was just on her play phone.

Little Mama

"Look, Mama. I'm feeding my baby."

Better you than me, Sis.

After dinner tonight, Shane went outside to enjoy a cigarette and I stayed in the kitchen, cleaning it up. With Deacon sleeping off his crazy day (EMS ride to the ER, courtesy of a no-breathing, turning-blue, choking episode), the girls played hide-n-go-seek under our multi-colored fleece blanket, and I half-listened to their conversation:

Arabella: No, Amaya! Don't take so much! Mama's gonna see me!
Amaya: Haha!
Arabella: Amaya! Mama's gonna see me!
Amaya: Better than you than me!

It's your own fault, Mama.

A couple months ago, my husband got the bright idea to purchase uncut keys for our daughters. Rather than constantly fighting them for our own keys, the new sets allowed them to have their own collection, which they both toted around as airs of importance. Because of this, both Shane and I have taken to locking the doors of rooms where we do not want the girls.

Around that same time, Arabella figured out that an uncut key contains the perfect formation for unlocking all of the interior knobs in our household. Good bye, bathroom privacy.

Today, I was enjoying a few moments of piece and quiet in the restroom while I took the opportunity to brush my teeth and wash my face. I heard the jiggle of the knob and quickly called out, "I'm in here."

Little footsteps faded away, only to return along with the clinking of metal. I heard the slight ting of keys hitting keys, of the slide into the lock, and then of the traitorous click as the connection was opened.

Arabella: Mama, what are you doing in here?
Me: I'm busy, sweetie. Go back to the other room and play. I'll be there in a few minutes.
Arabella: But what are you doing?
Me: Getting ready for bed. I'd like some privacy, please.
Arabella: Oh. If you want privacy, Mama, why didn't you lock the door?

A New View

Monday is Gymnastics Day, which means that our evenings are a flurry of activity as I rush from work to my mom's to the gym. Today, I hurried my oldest to the car, barely oblivious to my nephew hiding behind me, playing peek-a-boo with an impish 4-year-old. After rushed good-byes, I pulled away, and no sooner got into the street before Arabella spoke.

Arabella: Mommy. That was a new Mason.
Me: I'm sorry?
Arabella: That was a new Mason. Did you know we have two Masons in our family, Mommy? Two!
Me: There's only one Mason, sweetheart.
Arabella: Nuh-uh. That was a new Mason.

She pointed to the car in the driveway, a car her cousin did not usually drive.

Arabella: See? That's not his car. And he doesn't have the girl with him either.
Me: Kylie?
Arabella: Yeah, her. Kylie. This the new Mason. The other Mason always has Kylie with him.

Young Feminist

As we were getting in the car after dinner tonight, Arabella (age 4) requested a trip to Baskin Robbins for dessert. The following conversation occurred: 

Me: I think that's a great idea, sweetheart, but you're going to have to ask your daddy.
Arabella: Why?
Me: Because Daddy makes the decisions.
Arabella: <laughs> Nuh uh! You do.
Me: Daddy makes the decisions for our family. That's the job that God gavehim. Daddy listens to God, like your brother and sister and you listen to Mommy and Daddy.
Arabella: And God?
Me: You've got it.
Arabella: Does God listen to me?
Me: He hears you when you talk to him.
Arabella: So I can talk to him? I don't have to ask Daddy to talk to him?
Me: You can talk to him.
Arabella: Okay. Thank you, Mommy. <a moment later> God, please let Mommy make all the decisions for our family. Thank you.