Thursday, 13 September 2007

Give Me My Sheep and Buckle Me In!

While Babydoll is busy growing and find paths of her own outside the home, Cutiepie is clinging ever so tightly to the nest. And that’s alright with me! Last spring, she relinquished the bottle and in the aftermath, was quick to throw in the diapers. Darn it, if she was denied the luxury of bottles, she sure wasn’t going to stand for those bulky paper pants!

She may dress and eat like an older toddler, but this nearly-3 year old is still all cuddles and kisses. She is very loving and needy—hard to deny either when they come packaged in one so cute!

And yet Cutiepie’s vocabulary is so vast, it is impressive. In fact, she has so many new and exciting words within her reach, she uses them all and in a variety of ways—not always correct, but we get what she is saying. Like how my wedding ring is ‘spicy’ instead of ‘spiky’. Or how my legs are ‘broccoli’, a colourful term saying Mommy hasn’t shaved (aka prickly). Don’t think she isn’t smart, cause, that one night she helped with dinner and I told her to hold the broccoli, she was quick to say, ‘this is different broccoli than your legs’ broccoli.’ Just in case I was to confuse them!

With each day that passes, I know these snippets of innocence will surely fade. I do everything in my power to remain immersed in her misplaced words and fresh frame of mind.

Kevin and I divvy up bedtime chores: he reads to the girls, leaves them to settle in and play out the last of giggles and I follow up with a prayer, kiss and a good night. Each night Cutiepie concludes with, “Mommy give me my sheep and buckle me in, please!” Which, of course, means, “Mommy give me my sheet and tuck me in please.”

One night after the usual stalling tactics, you know them; drink, boogiemen, hunger, potty—the girls pleaded with Kevin to do the honors. I heard Cutiepie begin, “buckle me in, Daddy”. To my horror, Kevin began to say, “it’s not buckle, it’s…” I ran in and immediately cut him off, while begging, please no, don’t take that from me! In time, it will be gone of its own accord and we’ll be left only with fading memories of sheep and buckling in.

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