Priceless Princesses

Daughter number one is very into princesses right now. The dress up costumes, crowns, slippers. The whole shebang.

Today she was playing dress up with her friend (we'll call her Sidda). They came out of her bedroom, dressed to the nines in all their princess gear. Daughter number one came up and told me that she was a princess. (Thanks, I missed that one) She then tells me that I'm the prince and she's the princess and I have to marry her! So being the mom that I am, I try to tell her that princes and princesses can just be friends and they don't have to get married. This does not go over well with her. She tells me in no uncertain terms that the prince HAS to marry the princess so that they can go to the ball.

I ask Sidda what she thought. Her version had the prince up in the big tower with the wicked witch and the princess saves him.

Funny how kids think.

Morning Mommie

Six am this morning. Daughter number one bursts out of her room, a massive ball of never ending energy compacted in to three and a half feet of little girl. She's on a mission. That mission leads her directly to my bedroom. More specifically to my bedside, right by my sleeping head.

MOOOOMMM!!!!!

Jolted from my slumber I open my eyes and see her staring at me. That's just not what you want to wake up to. Aside from being slightly creepy, she does not seem to understand the concept of decibel control in the early (read: pre-coffee) hours.

I mumble something resembling,"What is it sweetie?". To which she responds that she's awake (thanks for the memo) and that Daughter number two has woken up and made a big mess. Good morning. Some where in that short conversation she managed to squeeze in that she was hungry. (She's always hungry)

I pry myself out of my very warm comfortable bed and pad down to the other end of the house. You know, where the little gremlins have their lair.

Upon entering their room I get an immediate reminder that Daughter number two is still teething. There, in all it's technicolor glory, was the evidence. Let say this, dear reader, stomach teeth are the devil! When they start to rear their ugly heads, your washing machine will work overtime.

Wild Buffalo

My three year old decided that she wanted to sleep in my bed last night. I don't know why or how she came to this decision but nevertheless there she was in my bed all tucked in and ready for a good nights sleep. (For her maybe)

Sleeping in the same bed as my daughter is like sleeping with a wild buffalo. She's all arms and legs, knees and elbows. She moves a lot in her sleep! As a result and possibly as a safety precaution on my part, I am squeezed into the very last few inches of bed on my side.

When I put her to bed, she had her head on her pillow. Somehow during the long, long night she managed to flip and twist, and turn her way so that she was completely upside down!! I think it's just one of her things. I don't know how she even stays asleep moving around like that. But almost every morning she wakes up full of energy and ready to unleash her enthusiasm on the world (or at least my house). While I am still thanking God that my coffee pot still works and watching the beautiful liquid drip into the coffee pot, she is running around the house. At seven thirty in the morning.

Well, the wild buffalo will be sleeping in her own bed tonight, in a new effort to try to keep the zoo at one end of the house.

The Importance of Three

My oldest daughter is three. Though if I tell her,"Yes honey, your three." this results in a massive protest because apparently I'm not saying it right. Apparently there is a certain way that you have to say the word three. Duh Mom, I think my daughter has perfected that look, the Duh Mom look.

So I ask her how I'm supposed to say it. She prepares......slowly. Drum roll please, your supposed to say it like this. Ok, I'm waiting. I'm THREE!!! And there in two little words is every bit of excitement and awe and wonder that she can possibly put into her voice. She's three.

My daughter reminds me of this fact daily, many times daily. I suppose that she thinks that because I'm Mom that I'll forget or something. Nope honey, not a chance!! Occasionally she will throw in a "Mom don't forget OK?!?".

At this point it's usually midday or so. I'm on what feels like my tenth pot of coffee and after protests and Mom school from my three year old teacher on the proper enunciation of the word three I let my mind wander and imagine what she very well may be like as a teenager. Immediately the headache moves into my overstressed brain. Bad Brain! Bad!!

I am wondering what direction she will go in when she gets to four. I better find out how to say four before she gets there to avoid another lesson.