We’re driving down the road and Ladybug is begging for a Chihuahua. I list all the reasons she can’t have one. We drive along in silence for a while. Then she announces, “I feel like I belong to someone else.” I ask, “Like who?” Her reply: “Like someone who would let me have a Chihuahua.”
Ladybug and her daddy were watching a t.v. show about Mt. Everest. He was trying to impress upon her how cold it really is on the mountain. After his speech, she asked: “If you drank lots and lots of grape juice and went up there, would you turn into a popsicle?”
Wailing from her room after I had to detach myself from her clutches at bedtime: “I hurt my hand ankle.” I asked, “You mean your wrist?” After a thoughtful moment, she said, “Oh. Yes.”
And this gem: “My bottom tricked me. I thought I had to go poo-poo, but I didn’t.”
One day when I asked her to bring her belongings from the car into the house: “I have been working all day! I haven’t had a pinch of rest!” Six is apparently the new 16.
We were strolling through Target and Ladybug noticed a sign of a boy wearing swim trunks and no shirt. “He’s naked!” she said. After I explained that was he was wearing his swimsuit and boys don’t usually wear shirts while they’re swimming, she questioned: “Why do boys have nibbles when they don’t have babies?”
And just now, as I was typing: Ladybug was dancing and singing in front of her father as he tried to watch American Rifleman. After patiently requesting quiet, he asked, “Are you trying to make me angry?” Ladybug’s response: “No. I’m trying to make you fun.” Tee-hee.
