Conversations With A Four-Year-Old, Volume Eight

This conversation took place while Emmeline was playing with one of my old Barbie dolls from the 70's, who is, apparently, an Orca by today's Barbie figure standards and doesn't fit into half of the new Barbie clothes.

E: Mommy, some of my Barbies are really fat.

Me: What?

E: Yeah, some of them are really fat and can't fit into these clothes. See? Her tummy is sticking out of this shirt.

Me: Wow. You're right--those clothes don't fit my old Barbie at all, do they?

E: No. But that's okay. Because having your tummy stick out of your clothes like that makes you look like a rock star!

Okay, now I'm off to write a letter to Mattel about what they're doing to little girls' conceptions of what their bodies should look like....

Conversations With A Four-Year-Old, Volume Seven

E: Look, Mommy--I made you a snowman at school today!

Me: Wow! That's really nice! Can I keep it forever and ever?

E: Why do you want to keep it forever and ever?

Me: So that someday, when you're all grown up, I can look at it and think about when you were a little girl.

E: Oh. So you want to keep it until you're really, really old?

Me: Uh, yes.

E. Okay. But I want it back when you die.

Conversations With a Four-Year-Old, Volume Six

E: Mommy, where do you think unicorns come from? Because I think they come from Texas!

Me: Really? How come?

E: Well, I've never seen any unicorns in New Orleans or in Georgia, so they must all be in Texas.

Me: Hmm. Maybe so.

Conversations With a Four-Year-Old, Volume Five

I think it's only fair that E should need therapy, at some point, due to my parenting skills. Because she sure throws some zingers out at me occasionally. For example:

E: Mommy, can we have some quiet time now?

Me: Sure. Are you tired of talking?

E: Yes. Sometimes, when you talk, it makes my ears hurt.

Conversations With A Four-Year-Old, Volume Four

So, with all of the celebrity deaths lately (I mean, c'mon--Ed McMahon, Farrah Fawcett, Michael Jackson AND Billy Mays? Oh, the humanity!), the subject of death was bound to hit Emmeline's radar eventually. Somehow, Michael Jackson's death made it into her frame of consciousness this week.--I think it has to do with the fact that she absolutely loves Thriller. (I blame her father. And Vincent Price.) So, we got to have the following conversation on the way home from daycare today.

E: Mommy, why did Michael Jackson die?

Me: (Me, thinking to myself, "Oh lord, the death conversation. I'm so not ready for the death conversation. Shouldn't she be having this conversation with a trained professional?") Oh, he was sick honey. Sometimes people get sick and die.

Thank God I'm Normal, aka Conversations With a Four-Year-Old, Volume Three

I have discovered a post that, in my humble opinion, is the funniest damn mom-blogging post ever. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Watch Your Mouth. Go read it. It's well worth it.

And now, in the spirit of that honesty, I'll share my own watch your mouth moment, otherwise known as Conversations With a Four-Year-Old....

E: *#$%^&*!

Me: What did you just say?

E: Sorry, Mommy. I said f*ck. But it's okay, because I was just talking to my Barbie because she won't let me put her damn clothes on. I wasn't talking to you.

I really honestly can't imagine where she's heard such language....

Conversations With A Four-Year-Old, Volume Two

A conversation that took place at 3:00 a.m.

E: Mommy, wake up. Mommy?

Me: Uhnnnnnn.

E: Mommy, wake up. I don't feel good.

Me: What's wrong, sweetie?

E. My tummy hurts. I think I have the swan flu.

Conversations With a Four-Year-Old, Volume One

E: Mommy, Ryan was talking about his tee-tee at school today. He has a tee-tee because he's a boy.

Me: Yes, that's right. Ryan's a boy.

E: Yeah, he's a boy, but I told him I didn't want to hear about his tee-tee. I told him that's biscusting.

Me: Biscusting?

E: Yeah. Biscusting. That's when something's really gross.