Out of the mouths of babes...

    Last year I was pregnant with Lily and watching three kids in addition to my two children, all under the age of 5.  Somehow, only having four children at my house is even more exhausting.   Grace and the little girl I watch are both two, and I thought it would be easier to take care of two 2 year olds rather than two babies.  Instead, they seem to be getting more difficult.  Both little girls are still under two and a half, but they are both potty trained.  Logically one would think that this would be easier than having children in diapers, but it is actually harder.  Both girls go potty every 15 to 20minutes.  This involves toilet paper, dumping, wiping, hand washing, and sometimes shrieking if they touch each other.  During this process, my youngest, Lily, is determined to get in the bathroom and participate in the action.  At nine months she can already throw toys in the toilet.

    There is nothing cuter than little girls singing.  A few days ago, while we were waiting for a prescription for Grace (which is another story in itself), I encouraged the girls to sing.  Grace was trying to touch the little girl I watch, and she was trying to bite Grace.  Grace sweetly started,
“Rock-a-bye, rock-a-bye, go to sleep little…. (devilish grin) poop,
you’re my baby, you’re my baby, you’re my sweet poopy poop…”

These are obviously not the correct words to the song.  The fact that my “not-yet-two-and-a-half” year old can replace words in a song with ones she knows are inappropriate is just beyond me.  Today at a play-date she told me she had to go potty, and since she wore a ridiculous frilly pink dress she needed extra help.  I followed her out of the room where the moms were talking and she stopped and headed towards the kitchen.  She did not, in fact, need to use the bathroom, but wanted a snack and knew that I would get up immediately for a potty emergency, but probably not for a snack request.

    Ford is really not to be outdone by his little sister.  A “bad Ford” keeps coming in the house and doing naughty things.  He also told me before we went to a fundraiser, “Looks like somebody is going to have another baby.”  I am not pregnant, and actually thought I was looking pretty good.  I told him that it wasn’t polite to tell a woman that.
“Do you know why Ford?”
“Yeah, because then the lady thinks that she looks fat.”
“So…”
“Mommy, you look a little fat.”

Gotta love those kids…