Julia

My Daughter

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(Pictures are unrelated to the text of this post, in case you're anticipating some food-related story.  Just figured I'd clarify that up front.)

Two little bits about this small girl-child I "gave birth to" – I really think she was dropped off at the hospital by strange-humored fairies.  I can't think of any other explanation.

Anyway.

Monday night we were at a wake and a brief funeral service for an older family member on my husband's side.  Just setting the scene here. 

We had allowed Julia to bring two of her Barbies along, because we figured they'd keep her occupied and she'd be less likely to steal flowers from the big arrangements up front.

We sat together and the kids were very good throughout the readings and prayers.  Alex was quiet and polite and only fidgeted near the end, and Julia was – for her age – good and fairly quiet, and though after each reading and prayer she whispered to me "Is she done yet?" it wasn't loud enough for anyone else to hear.  I think.

Anyway, while part of the service was going on, Julia was leaning against me, holding her Barbies (who, because this was a serious occasion, were both clothed for a change) and being quiet and respectful.  I had my arm around her, and was occasionally rubbing her arm or her back or patting her on the arm – basically trying to keep her quiet through mommy sign language, I guess.

So we were sitting like this, and I was looking at the priest as she spoke, when I felt a small hand on my hand.  I looked down, and Julia proceeded to lift my hand off of her arm, raise it over her small self and deposit it – my hand – in my own lap. 

Then she looked me straight in the eye and whispered loudly and somberly, "Hands to yourself."

~~~~~

This morning I'm home with both kids – they've got colds – Alex's is particularly gross and disgusting, 'nuff said – and I figured they don't need to be sneezing and coughing all over their classmates and teachers today.  So they're here, and – I'm almost afraid to type this for fear it will jinx things – they're playing nicely together.  For, like, the past hour and a half. 

Anyway, I made them a cave (they were jaguars or leopards and apparently NEEDED a cave) by draping blankets over the foosball table in the basement, and they carried stuffed animals around in their mouths (mental note:  wash those stuffed animals today) and Julia gave birth to multi-hued baby cats by pulling them out of her pajama top.

A few minutes ago Julia came upstairs with one of her little toy horses – a plastic creature with a coat of that slightly soft fuzzy stuff all over it.  Well – before this morning that's what it had.  No more.  Julia was in the process of peeling all the grey fuzzy "skin" off the poor creature.  She didn't want it to be grey any more.  She'd done most of it but couldn't get the last bits off three of the horse's ankles.  So, since it was already too late to glue the grey back on, I went ahead and peeled off the remaining skin.  I handed her the now-albino horse, and she went to show Alex.

He said to her "Julia, what's that hole for?"  And she looked, and made some sound of disappointment and then brought the white horse to me and dropped it in my lap.  And expressed her dismay in one word.

"Damn!"

I stared at her.  "What did you say?"  (I was thinking /hoping she'd named the horse "Dan" and I'd misunderstood her.)

She smiled and shrugged and said "Damn?"  (Poor mommy, she's going deef.)

"I don't want you saying that, Julia."

"Why?"

"Because it's not a nice word."

"Okay."  And then she pointed out the holes (there were more than one) in her white horse – where the eyes had been.  She asked why there were holes, and I told her "because you peeled the eyes off" and she accepted that without comment and went back to play with her brother.

I'm blaming my husband for her growing vocabulary.

I only say bad words in the car.  You know, because of all the bad drivers out there.

So far she's only repeated one of my descriptive terms once.

That I know of.

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4 thoughts on “My Daughter

  1. Oh, Jayne, that’s hilarious. All of it. Don’t you love the stuff they come up with? Gillian keeps asking me for “butt cream.” (diaper ointment) I’m not sure where she got that, since it’s not a term I use. And she called me stupid recently. I think she was just trying that one out to see what I would say. Brianna’s current favorite is to say that I’m lying to her. *sigh* The joys of trying to explain to an almost 6yo the difference between deliberately lying versus changing your mind about something… =)

  2. Di, you had me laughing out loud. “Butt cream.” I think there’s a brand out there called exactly that or something like it. Oh, no, wait – it’s called “Butt Paste.” And then when you wrote “And she called me stupid recently.” Hahahahaha – welcome to the club of stupids! It’s been drilled into the kids that “stupid” isn’t a nice word, but Julia still likes to test the waters every now and then to see if things have changed. And the lying – oh my. Thanks for commenting – you made my day!

  3. Oh, the joys! My daughter systematically peeled the flesh of several of those horses, including one or two that had been my husband’s when he was a kid. It’s like you halfway expect to see sinewy muscles under there like the visible human body thing. And I’ve been stupid for a very very long time. My daughter is almost 5, and I get it whenever we’re in a fight. And I’m okay with admitting that a couple times, after the fight dies down and we’re cool, she’ll ask me for something and I’ll say “What’s that? I’m too stupid to know.” Which I know is awful, unfair, and a REALLY bad role-modeling thing, but, eh. It makes me feel better.

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