I should have known it was coming, but I've never worried much about J starting to repeat everything we say because I've always felt like we've done a pretty good job of censoring ourselves around her... the advent of 2K has given me a new perspective on this issue. Somehow the things we say that don't seem that bad sound REALLY bad when she comes out with them in the carpool line. Take, for instance, "crap." I've maybe said the word around her twice (or maybe I'm censoring my own memory), and never directed at her or in conversation with her. Yesterday it became her new favorite word. We were sitting in line waiting for her teacher to come get her out of the car when she started chanting it.
Me (hopefully): Clap?
J: Uh-huh! Crap.
J: Crap, Crap, Crap.
And then the grand finale:
J: Crap, J!
I finally - biting my lip - turned around and told her that wasn't a nice word to say, which of course only made it all the more appealing. Add to this the patch of eczema under her eye that looks for all the world like a shiner, and you can imagine my dismay at discharging my little potty-mouth into the world. What the Methodists must think of us!
On a sweeter note, this afternoon she was putting her baby doll down for a nap and said, "tired, busy morning." These are the things I want her to pick up. These things are endearing and indicative of the kind, loving and attentive mommy she is lucky enough to have. Announcing "wear me out" at the dinner table... is not. She does wear me out, of course, but it makes me feel horrible to hear it out of her sweet little mouth. I don't think I've ever said it harshly - at least I hope not - but no matter how lightheartedly I imagine it sounds coming from me, it doesn't sound so funny coming back from her.
So... lesson learned, and on to the next psyche altering mistake!
Monday, August 28, 2006
We are shameless in our attempts for j's affection. We ask her if she loves us when we know she's in a negative mood and we know she's going to say "no" in her sassiest tone, and yet, we ask anyway. And then we fake cry, which we also know she is powerless to resist, all so she will lunge for us with sheer pity on her face and give us her patented "hug?" "kiss?" "happy!" brand of therapy. It works every time - I just hope we're not setting her up for a lifetime of being attracted to wounded birds who will never her bring her anything but heartache and IBS... like her aunt.
Posted by ali at 8:01 PM