Thursday, October 25, 2012

Conversations with Brenna -Part two

While standing in the kitchen near the espresso maker...

B: Mommy, I want some coffee.
Me: (Thinking my hearing is going) You want some coffee?
B: Yes...  In a sippy cup.
Me: You want coffee in a sippy cup? (By now I am pretty sure she thinks I am both deaf and a little stupid)
B: Yes.
Me: Ummmmmm...

Really, what is there to say to a 3 year old who wants coffee in a sippy cup?

In the car...
B: Where are we going?
Me: We are going to get your hair cut.
B: Why?
Me: To make it pretty.
B: Like yours?
Me (Awww. She's the best kid ever.): Thank you sweetie.
B: Noooooooo! Don't want like yours!

Nuff said.

On going to the dentist for the first time...
Me: Do you think we should make an appointment for you to go to the dentist?
B (Displaying an unnatural level of enthusiasm): YES!
Me (suspicious): What does a dentist do?
B: He plays basketball.

Apparently, Michael Jordan is her dentist.

(Copied from:

Monday, October 22, 2012

Oh, sparkles, how I used to love thee...

In a moment of feeling like super-craft mom I decided that I would give Brenna her “pink pumpkins” AND add a bit of pizzazz to her pink ladybug costume by buying pink glitter spray paint and painting both the pumpkins and her ladybug wings (which were red with black dots). 

So, this morning out I go to the yard with the wings, spray glitter paint and a large piece of brown paper to protect the “grass” (aka weeds, though why I thought they needed to be protected is a mystery to me now). I get everything set up and go to start spraying. 

First, I cant get the stupid top off the spray paint can. How many educational degrees does it take to do a simple craft?? Apparently, n + 1.

Finally, after cursing several times, I get the top off (not sure the cursing and top coming off can be considered a causal event but since one occurred before the other and I’m ignoring any noise in my data, I’m going with causal connection) and I go to town spraying…

Everything is going well, wings are getting sparkly, I'm having a ball, unitl.........The spray button gets stuck and suddenly I’m spraying the hell out of everything in sight just trying to get it to stop. 

In an effort to stem the flow, I take the button off the top of the can. I'm not sure what I thought this was going to accomplish but what ended up happening was an instant geyser of glitter and whatever clear coat paint the glitter spraying straight up into the air, my face, and any poor bug in the vicinity. (There is now an epidemic of glittery bees in Atlanta.) 

Quickly realizing my mistake, I jam the little button thing back on to the top of the can, but now the nozzle is pointed directly into my hand and my hand is suddenly coated with a thick layer of sparkly pink. 

I curse more (and briefly wonder why I didn’t make Michael do this). 

Finally, the spray stops of its own accord. I sigh with relief and try to wipe some of the globs of glitter from my hand onto the pumpkin. 

But the wings still need more sparkle. I mean, when you are 3 yrs old, is there even such a thing as too much glitter? So what do I do? I start spraying again. (Make that education requirement n + 2 degrees) 

Shockingly, the button gets stuck again. (Hmmm, maybe I should review the concept of causal connections?) And I am once again I am at the mercy of the glitter spray until it decides to stop of its own accord again. 

Nevertheless, in the end I managed to make the wings pink-ish and sparkly, 

the pumpkin has a pink sparkly sheen, 

and my right hand may be permanently covered in a thick layer (much thicker than anywhere else, mind you) of pink sparkles.

Tuesday, October 9, 2012

conversations with my toddler...

Conversations with my toddler: Part 1

There is really nothing more entertaining than hearing what comes out of Brenna's mouth next.

Last month after the first day of the MS 150, as we were all "resting" in my parents' hotel room:
My dad (Poppy) is resting on the bed and Brenna is bouncing/jumping up and down next to him
Poppy: Brenna, no jumping please. Poppy is recovering.
Brenna, laughing: You're not COVERED Poppy!

Yesterday morning on the way to school, in response to the suggestion that we go to pick out a Halloween pumpkin this weekend:
Brenna: "I want to get 3" (while holding up 5 fingers)
me: "That's 5. But 3 is good."
B: "I want pink ones, like I have at home" (referring to the neon pink plastic pumpkin candy bucket we recently bought)
me: "Real pumpkins don't come in pink. Only orange."
B: "But I don't like orange. I like pink."
Last night after her goodnight kiss & hug from daddy
B: Daddy is a boy. We are girls.
me: Yes, you're right. Daddy is a boy and we are girls.
B: When boys get big, they get boy faces
me: boy faces?
B: yes, boy faces when they grow big
me: you mean, like a beard?
B: no, boy faces
me: like scratchy faces? on their chin and cheeks?
B: yes. boy faces
Daddy was thrilled to know that he has a boy face...come to think of it, I'm pretty thrilled to know that I don't.