Moriah (2.5)
Little Mo has learned the phrase "One more..." often gets her what she wants. Our day is filled with requests for one more show, one more snack, one more time. Last week I made peanut butter and honey sandwiches for lunch, a new favorite for our finicky eater. She was downstairs, not wanting to abandon her precious show for lunch, so I took my sandwich down to use as bait. She eagerly sampled my lunch and as I turned to head back upstairs I heard, "One more bite?" I agreed. I held the sandwich to retain control of my food and to emphasize the need for her to come upstairs to eat hers. She gently placed her hands on mine and as she leaned in to take her extra bite she ravenously started gobbling up as much of the sandwich as she could before I pulled it away. Now that she has learned to say "One more..." we just need to teach her what it really means.
The next day, Mo had a bit of a messy face. Here is how our conversation went as I wiped her mouth:
Dad: Looks like someone was eating applesauce.
Mo: No apples. Eat grass.
Dad: Grass? You shouldn't eat grass. It could make you sick.
Mo: Sick? [two forced coughs]
More from Moriah. She insists on referring to syrup as ketchup. It is rather unappetizing to hear someone ask for ketchup when we are having cake-cakes (pancakes).
Emma (9)
This little stinker thinks she is much older and much more independent than she really is. The other night I got after her for some act of insubordination. A few minutes after sending her to her room to turn in for the night, I found a note sticking out through her bedroom door frame. The note read:
DEAR FAMILY,
Never Enter This Room
Again, For Emma Rimington
Finally Gets and Wants Her
PEACE!!! NEVER AGAIN
ENTER!!! GOOD BYE,
FOREVER!!!
After a drawing of a sad face, complete with tear, and a signature, the note concluded with a post script: "Dad, you can tuck me in." She may be hyper-dramatic, but at least I know she is still Daddy's little girl. Needless to say, this little gem is being preserved in her box of memorabilia.
