Aspirations

Tonight Sally told me she wants to be an astronaut. "A GREAT astronaut. I will need some help building my rocket ship though. I have some paper ...some crayons ..."

A few months ago Walter told me he wants to be a pastor/firefighter/daddy.

I think they're both pretty great, those kids. Not great sleepers, still. But otherwise great. Great people.

Dinner conversation

Sally: Why isn't Rudolph's nose shiny anymore?
Me: *blank stare*
Sally: He "HAD a very shiny nose."
Me: Oh. Well, he HAD a very shiny nose. But he also still has it. And he'll always have it.
Walter: Until he dies.
Me: Well, Rudolph is magical. I think he may be eternal.
Walter: You mean "nocturnal," Mama.

"I'm not going to bite you."

Being with Sally, particularly at bedtime, is this incredible opportunity to gain insight into the toddler mind. Because with Sally, all internal narrative goes external. And the most secret thoughts of two-and-a-half-year-olds are revealed.  

Bedtime often begins with these words of reassurance: "I'm not going to bite you." She'll say it to me very calmly and lovingly, as I'm stooping down to pick her up. Like many of her peers, Sally (apparently) has to fight some pretty strong urges to bite people.  Adults often try to explain this behavior based on adult reasoning: it must be those two-year molars, or a growth spurt, or anxiety about changes, or just a normal developmental stage.  But Sally can tell us exactly why two-year-olds like to bite. 

They want to eat us. 

Tonight, a little while after reassuring me that she wouldn't bite me while we snuggled in the rocking chair, Sally rested her head on my shoulder and started licking my neck.  

"What are you doing, Sally?"

"I'm licking you."

"Why are you licking me?"

"Because it is yummy to me to lick you,"  and then she put on her big, big voice, and started channeling all the fairy tales she's been hearing, lately: "I am going to eat you ALL UP. OM NOM NOM NOM NOM NOM."

Then she laughed. Maniacally. 

My suspicions were further confirmed a little later, when I heard her muttering to herself. "I can't bite Mama. But I CAN lick Mama. Yes. Yes I can."

My precious. 

Other highlights from the pre-bed stream-of-consciousness tonight:

"Baba brought me pancakes to eat. Just me. When you weren't there. And Daddy wasn't there. And Walter wasn't there. But Umma and Baba were there. For me." (This was a day a few weeks ago when Sally was sick and Umma and Baba stayed home with her. She paused for a minute, remembering how wonderful it was to have all that grandparent attention entirely to herself. Then, she continued.) "PANCAKES! Pancakes! Pancakes! Pancakes! Pancakes! Pancakes! Pancakes! Pancakes! I really like pancakes! I am a very hungry girl for pancakes!"

At one point, she turned around, looked me right in the eyes, and asked with great, great seriousness and intensity: "DID I EAT A YOGURT WITH A BUNNY PICTURE ON THE SIDE OF IT TODAY?"

Hmmmmm. Looking back on all these quotes ...

OK, I guess it's possible it's just a growth spurt.