linguistics.

December 7, 2010 at 9:04 am (darndest, random Puffs, whimsically silly)

“Forgive me my nonsense, as I also forgive the nonsense of those that think they talk sense.”

– Robert Frost

You may have noticed that I like quotes. You could say that I collect them. But I’m pretty lax about what I consider a good one. . . basically, if it made me laugh I add it to my collection. The ones that make me laugh the most – my FAVORITE quotes by far – come from the cutest source of all (and the closest to home); my eldest daughter. I try to remember to write them down when I’m done laughing, and once in a while I actually do. Here are a few recent ones. . .

“Mom, Could you please sing the Dingle-berry song for me?”
(she meant ‘Jingle Bells’)

. . .

T: PBBBBBBBT! BRRRRRRRRAAB! PPPPBBBBBT!
Me: ??!
T: I’m being a FART, Mommy! BRRRRRAP!
Me??!
Dad: People will think you’re stinky. . .
T: BBBPPPRRRRPPPTT!

. . .

“A Lassie is a girl. And girls go this way and that. . .you can see them.”
(T likes that song)

. . .

“You really crack me out, mom…”
(she meant “crack me up.”)

. . .

“When I was taking a nap today, my bones exploded… but its okay. They’re feeling better now.”
(*scratches head*)

. . .

“MOM! COME HERE!!! I NEEEEEEEED HELP!!!”

“It rolled away. . .”

. . .

3 hours after the blissful silence of kiddy bedtime descended on our house, mysterious noises summon Dad into Teagle’s room. He finds her, awake and hunched down at the foot of her bed, staring intently at the floor in the dark;

Dad: What are you doing in here?
T: *sounds disturbed* There’s a. . . little gray. . . puff-ball. Come here, I’ll show you.
*T points to the floor where the breeze from the fan is blowing a very fluffy feather across the floor*
Dad: That looks like a feather. Where did it come from?
T: From a dead bird.
Dad: No, I mean. . . in your room. . .
T: Oh. From the closet. From the dress-up bin.

(Well. . . Feathers DO come from dead birds. . .)

. . .

“COME HERE QUICK!!! THERE’S BUG POOP ON THE FLOOR!!!”
(It was a grain of potting soil this big     .     )

. . .

“There’s no railing on these stairs. . . will YOU be my railing?”
(of course I will!)

. . .

“Just for the record, I like Honey Nut Cheerios best. But I don’t even know what a record IS!
(She doesn’t. We’ve tried to explain, but the concept has eluded her thus far.)

. . .

T: Mommy, you’re crazy.
Me: I am? Why do you say that?
T: You’re crazy because you love everybody’s babies.
Me: Oh yeah? That’s why?
T: Yeah. . .Daddy said so.

(Daddy denies ever having had any such conversation with his daughter. I believe him.)

. . .

“I am going to color this Christmas tree ORANGE and then it will be an EVER-ORANGE!”
(as opposed to an evergreen)

. . .

T has been really into telling me how “beautiful” and “pretty” and gorgeous” I am. Which is bloomin’ adorable and flattering as heck. As nice as it is to hear, after a week or two of the same few words repeated sometimes every 15 minutes or so, I felt it was time to broaden her little horizons and teach her other ways to give compliments. All this led up to me teaching my three-year old what a simile is while she was taking her bath (yeah, I know. We’re odd people!) and how to make one. I gave her a few examples, and we went on with her tubby. After some time had passed, she looked up at me with the purest love that only a young child can express for her mother and said;

“Mommy. . . your lips are as shiny as a soapdish!”

Well. . . it’s a great start! Baby’s first simile. Awwww. One for the baby-book, to be sure! And she was so proud of her little self (mommy was, too)!

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