Momnesia

Out of the Mouth of My Babe

AUGUSTA, GA. - First, I can't believe that it's been so long since I posted anything. It's not that there hasn't been wonderful, witty repartee to relate. I've just been swamped with work. And tired. And I have a toddler with a double ear infection. And a husband who will, undoubtedly, sleep through the Second Coming. Anyhoodle... Emmie stories. Three-year-olds are amazingly perceptive creatures.

Monday, 4 p.m.
I picked Emmie up early because I was across town finishing an interview anyway. I brought her home, made her something to eat, got her all acclimated and absorbed in activities that would allow Scott to continue working. Then I readied to return to work for the evening.
"Mama! Don't LEEEB me!" she shrieked, anguished eyes filling with tears.
"Oh, sweetie!" I hugged her and smoothed my hand over her cheek. "I have to go back to work."
"No go work, mama! Stay her wit Emmie," she pleaded, clutching my arm and laying her cheek on my shoulder.
"Honey, mommy has to work so we can buy you peanut butter and yogurt and pretty dresses and shoes," I said.
"Noooo," she whined. "We go to da store."
I laughed: "We have to have money at the store."
She lifted her head and looked me in the eye: "And dollars?"
"Yes, dollars, too."
"You go work get me money and dollars?" she asked, her head cocked to one side. I was proud of her for making the connection (and, of course, dismayed).
"Yes, doodle-bug."
Her face lit up: "OKAY! Dank you so mush!"
She plopped back down at her activities table just as Scott walked in.
"Daddy! Mama go work an' get me dollars and moneeeeee!" she shrieked happily. He looked at me, bemused. I sighed. Sold out for dresses.

Thursday, 7:30 a.m.
After wrangling Emmie for a while and trying to simultaneously entertain her and take a shower (it involved a lot of "peek-a-boo," one session of which ended after soap leaked into my eyes... I guess that's just called "boo."), I stepped out to dry off. I forgot to condition my hair, but whatever.
"Mama!" Emmie commanded from two feet below me. "Waise you arm!"
Amused, I squatted down and raised my left arm, expecting her to wiggle her fingers and say, "tickuw, tickuw!" She frowned. "No! Da odder arm!"
I raised my right arm. She bent in and I tensed for tickling. Instead she examined my armpit very carefully, and then grinned a huge toothy smile.
"Mama! You got whiskers!"
I looked down. I had shaved only one side.
Awesome.