Over the past few days there have been a few "Delaneyisms" which have helped me understand the inner workings of D's brain (hence the post title). This rare glimpse in to her head has helped me realize a few things about my daughter.
1. She has an impressive vernacular for a 3 year old.
2. She appreciates a good fart joke, just like her father.
3. Her brain never stops working meaning I will have many a parent-teacher conference.
4. In case I don't share it enough, I love this kid because she is freaking awesome.
Here is what she has come up with this week.
- Upon returning home from errands I immediately put on pajama pants. I had spent most of the day feeling like a sausage stuffed in its casing in my too-tight pants and they had to go. Trying to stay a little classy I kept my nice shirt on. D checks me out and says "Mom! You look so weird with your daytime shirt and your pajama pants on!".
How nice of you to notice kiddo! At least I don't look "ridiculous" like you said I did in our wedding picture.
- D: "Mom, how old are you?"
Me: "32"
D: "Really? You look like you are 33."
MonkeyMomma Self Esteem: 0 D:2
- If you read about the recent events at the G dinner table you know that D models Daddy. If you know Daddy then you know we have a lot of bathroom humor in our house. If this offends you, you should stop reading now. Me? It makes me laugh that she inherently knows bathroom humor is funny and inappropriate which makes it even funnier.
Somehow passing gas in our house has become referred to as "blowing your horn". I DID NOT come up with this, Daddy did. Lucky for you this is not a post on the inner workings of Daddy's brain. So, every time she hears a "toot" she exclaims with glee "That was Daddy/me/S/Mommy's horn! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!". I have to admit it's pretty funny, except for when she thinks I am blowing my horn in the grocery store while pushing a squeaky cart. Here she admonishes me "It is not nice to toot your horn at the grocery store.". Really?!? Do you want me to run down the list of your grocery store infractions? Screaming like a banshee, picking your nose and that one time you peed in the cart just to name a few.
-In the tub D laughs "Ha! Ha! That was my horn!" Then she starts to frantically look around her for a few seconds. Looking at me with relief she says "Whew! I thought I pooped in here!". Well, I speak on behalf of your infant sister in the bath sling next to you and myself when I say we are glad you did not.
-Hubby- "Honey, do you want to go to dinner at chain restaurant A or chain restaurant B?
D- "I want to go to B, Adam.".
HUH?!?! I think he was talking to me, kiddo! And the name is Daddy, please stop referring to us by our first names it's just strange. Almost as strange as telling your teacher you are having contractions.
-D went for her first big haircut at my salon this week. Getting out of the car she takes one look at the place and exclaims "Wow! This place looks like it costs lost of money, Mommy!". Talking to your Dad again, huh?
-Every night at bedtime we name our "favorite part" and our "stinky part" of our day. Putting D to bed the day of our salon trip D states that her favorite part of the day was "going to the bathroom at the haircut place". Interesting! You mean when I had to get out of the chair with my half-cut, dripping head of hair and walk you to the bathroom where you admired everything including the paper towels only so you would stop screeching "I need to poop!" in the salon with the muted lighting and soft music? Oh yeah, that was my favorite part of the day, too. How could I forget?
Fortunate for us, we think S is going to be an early talker......
Thursday, May 10, 2012
Friday, May 4, 2012
A scene from the dinner table...
I always wondered why that cartoon was called "Family Circus". 3 years after the birth of our first child and I no longer wonder. The craziest part of our day is usually at the dinner table. Over the past 3 years we have slowly created a few simple table rules.
1. You must wear some article of clothing at table, preferably covering top and bottom but we will take what we can.
2. Do not pretend to vomit, gag or die after the first bite.
3. If you need to use the bathroom, leave the table to do so.
4. You get what you get unless Momma discovers mold on the main ingredients post-cooking. In such a case, she takes full responsibility and will make you something else.
Somehow it has fallen on me to be the sole chef of the circus feeding two of the worlds pickiest eaters. Food is always on their mind. D often asks in the morning what we will be having that night wanting to know what will fill each section of her divided plate. My my hubby emails me at work to ask the same. I am a little resentful knowing that between the hours of 5pm and 6 pm I will be standing in front of the refrigerator doing my best Martha Stewart impression for the next 2 decades. Now I know why my mom "forgot" how to cook when both her children left home. I am a firm believer in the "you get what you get" mantra, but easier said then done when you are cooking for a 3 yr old and a 30-something who calls hot dogs his favorite food. In an attempt to clean out the fridge last nights menu consisted of leftover chicken for the grown-ups and chicken nuggets for the kiddo. Apparently, my family has much higher standards than this. Here's a glimpse at last nights dinner conversation...
D & Hubby each staring at their plates in horror: What is this?
Me: Seriously?! It's chicken.
D: Does it have pepper on it?
Me: Do I normally put pepper on your food, D?
D takes a bite: Eww, this is disgusting!
Hubby takes a bite: Ugh! I am gagging! I am going to throw up, this tastes like rubber.
Hubby gets up and throws his food away.
D: Can I throw my food away?
Me: NO!
Hubby: I'm eating a hot dog, where are the hot dog rolls?
Me: I forgot them at the store.
Hubby: What are you a communist? Who eats hot dogs without hot dog rolls?
D: I think I'm going to throw up because there is pepper on my chicken nuggets!
Me: THAT'S IT! We are playing the silent dinner table game, the first person to talk loses. Ready, set, go!
2 seconds pass.....
D: What can I have for snack?
Me: No snack unless you eat your dinner!
Hubby: Ha, ha, losers! I win!
In the end, D had 3 strawberries and a glass of milk for dinner and my hubby had communist hot dogs. Take that, Martha! As I look down the road towards at least 18 more years of making dinner for these picky eaters I know there will be more"leftovers nights" and games of "silent dinner table" in our future. This leads to a new rule: Losers do the dishes.
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1. You must wear some article of clothing at table, preferably covering top and bottom but we will take what we can.
2. Do not pretend to vomit, gag or die after the first bite.
3. If you need to use the bathroom, leave the table to do so.
4. You get what you get unless Momma discovers mold on the main ingredients post-cooking. In such a case, she takes full responsibility and will make you something else.
Somehow it has fallen on me to be the sole chef of the circus feeding two of the worlds pickiest eaters. Food is always on their mind. D often asks in the morning what we will be having that night wanting to know what will fill each section of her divided plate. My my hubby emails me at work to ask the same. I am a little resentful knowing that between the hours of 5pm and 6 pm I will be standing in front of the refrigerator doing my best Martha Stewart impression for the next 2 decades. Now I know why my mom "forgot" how to cook when both her children left home. I am a firm believer in the "you get what you get" mantra, but easier said then done when you are cooking for a 3 yr old and a 30-something who calls hot dogs his favorite food. In an attempt to clean out the fridge last nights menu consisted of leftover chicken for the grown-ups and chicken nuggets for the kiddo. Apparently, my family has much higher standards than this. Here's a glimpse at last nights dinner conversation...
D & Hubby each staring at their plates in horror: What is this?
Me: Seriously?! It's chicken.
D: Does it have pepper on it?
Me: Do I normally put pepper on your food, D?
D takes a bite: Eww, this is disgusting!
Hubby takes a bite: Ugh! I am gagging! I am going to throw up, this tastes like rubber.
Hubby gets up and throws his food away.
D: Can I throw my food away?
Me: NO!
Hubby: I'm eating a hot dog, where are the hot dog rolls?
Me: I forgot them at the store.
Hubby: What are you a communist? Who eats hot dogs without hot dog rolls?
D: I think I'm going to throw up because there is pepper on my chicken nuggets!
Me: THAT'S IT! We are playing the silent dinner table game, the first person to talk loses. Ready, set, go!
2 seconds pass.....
D: What can I have for snack?
Me: No snack unless you eat your dinner!
Hubby: Ha, ha, losers! I win!
In the end, D had 3 strawberries and a glass of milk for dinner and my hubby had communist hot dogs. Take that, Martha! As I look down the road towards at least 18 more years of making dinner for these picky eaters I know there will be more"leftovers nights" and games of "silent dinner table" in our future. This leads to a new rule: Losers do the dishes.
Come visit the great blogging community....
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