Sadie hated the choir that was visiting our church a few weeks ago. She kept yelling, "Stop it! I don't wike it! I don't wike that song! Don't sing it!" She especially hated it when they started singing loudly. Bill had to take her out of the chapel several times. On her way out, she yelled, "I don't want you, Daddy!" Then, when he brought her back in, thinking she would be calm enough to not distract from the meeting, she said, "No! I don't want to sit by Mommy!" Everyone is going to be fighting to sit next to us next week.
Sadie wanted to call her cousin for several days. "Mommy, I NEED to caw Ruby!" She told me this several times. I asked her what she wanted to say that was so important. "I need to tehw Ruby that she weft one of her diapers here!"
Sadie had been telling me that her tummy hurt all morning. She started doing the weird cry that indicates vomit is coming. All kids do the same weird cry. I got up to try to get her a bowl, but I wasn't fast enough. Grape juice all over my white sheets, etc. She was freaking out because she didn't know what happened. "Mommy, I burped. I burped a wot. It's aw messy."
I feel sick anytime someone else in my family has any kind of stomach problems. I am very open to suggestion. Apparently, even writing about it has the same effect. It really was sad and disgusting.
Sadie had just been introduced to the story of Little Red Riding Hood. Later that day, as I rocked her, trying to help her calm down enough for a nap, she looked up at me and said, "Mommy, what pretty big eyewashes you have."
Sadie: I'm the guy who tehws you about Bath. Once upon a time, there was a wittow girro named Bath. And she bath bath bath. Do you wike that story? Do you? Do you wike it?
Sadie: You wike this sippy cup? You do? Because this is a kitty. Because that sippy cup has a princess on it. It's okay, kitty. I can pet you.
Sadie: Are you wooking for the monster, Mommy? It's right here, under the bwankee. See? It's my toes! See? My toes is a monster.
I don't have any idea what set the tantrum off. I only know I made it way worse. She was just screaming and sobbing for no apparent reason, and something about her pathetic self struck me as funny. I giggled. Then, "Stop waffing, Mommy! Don't waff!" I laughed a little harder. "Stop, Mommy! Don't wook at me! I don't want you, Mommy!" The more she told me to stop, the more I laughed. I knew it was really upsetting her, but I could not stop laughing. I finally hobbled into another room and started practicing a song, trying to stop laughing. She followed me, sobbing, "Don't pway that song, Mommy! I don't wike your music!" She hit my hands a few times. "Don't pway! I want you." Then she just let me hold her like she had never been mad at me. Two is my favorite and my least favorite age at the same time.
She asked me to sing to her the other night. "Sing 'I Am a Child of God'." I complied. She sighed, "I wuv Heaveny Father. He ahways hodes me." Awww. "He ahways eats dinner at our house." I told her that he didn't eat dinner at our house. "Oh. He eats dinner at his house? He does? He does eat dinner at his house?" I told her that he lives in Heaven. "Oh. His house is at Heaven? It is? It is at Heaven? He ahways hodes me. Heaveny Father wuvs me. And Jesus wuvs me. And my friends wuv me. Do they? Do my friends wuv me? I wike Sawyer. Does Beckett wuv me? He has a grammy. I pwayed at their house. And I wuv Annie and Ewi. And Wizzy and Tywer. And I wuv Baby Ivy."
I just barely got why it's called the pinewood derby. Pine. Wood. I'm kind of a genius to figure that out at such a young age.