Archive for the ‘Things my daughter says..’ Category
Four years. Nine months. Eight days.
That’s how old M was when she got her first mani/pedi.
Yes. A real mani/pedi at a nail salon. She was in the big massage chair. She had her feet in the water. She had a nail tech pamper her.
My baby girl.
She was so happy. The smile on her face was priceless.
She came out of the salon with blue finger and toenails. She had cute little flower nail art on her thumbs and big toes. She was so proud of them.
She told me after, “Mommy, I loved it!”
I can’t wait until she’s truly old enough and mani/pedi dates could be a regular thing for us!
M is funny. She’s suddenly acquired this arsenal of jokes. I think she heard one from school and then decided to make up a bunch of them herself.
Here are a few that she loves telling.
What do you call a witch that lives on the beach?
What do you call a pig that knows karate?
What do you call a fly that lives in butter?
What do you call a fly that lives in fire?
What do you call a cone that lives in ice?
An ice cream cone!
What do you call a hopper that lives in the grass?
Her execution and enthusiasm when she tells these jokes is what makes them so funny! She ends each joke by asking, “Get it?” It’s very cute!
I can’t wait for her to read these jokes again when she’s older to see what a silly little preschooler she used to be.
All this time, I always thought that the jealousy would come from M. I always thought that M would be the more jealous one. She’s my first born. For the first three years of her life, she’s been the only one. Naturally, I thought that she would be the one that would act out whenever she’d see me hold her sister.
It’s all K.
K, at 15 (almost 16) months old, is very possessive.
Whenever she sees me cuddle with her big sister, she immediately wants in.
“Neh! (No!)” K says, as she pulls my arm away from her big sister.
“Arrr-mah (Arm)” K says, as she takes my arm away from her big sister and hugs it for herself.
Sometimes I feel so bad at the amount of attention I give K at the moment. K is at that age where she needs to be watched like a hawk and I feel like M gets a little put aside. M has been very understanding and will usually find ways to work with us, or will usually find ways to entertain herself.
I try to steal little moments with M. It’s so interesting to see K’s reaction. I wasn’t expecting K to be so territorial with me.
It’s a good thing this mommy has two “arr-mahs,” one for each of my girls.
Fridays are M’s sharing day at the preschool. Each week, they share an item that corresponds to the letter of the week.
When the letter M became the letter of the week, my M was so excited. She was going to share herself!
I was volunteering that week, so I was very excited to see what she was going to say about herself.
It went something like this…
M: I’m sharing myself because my name starts with the letter M. I like Pokemon and I like to sing Taylor Swift songs.
Teacher: What is your favorite Taylor Swift song to sing?
M begins to sing a verse from Taylor Swift’s “Clean.”
Teacher: Does anyone want to ask M a question about her sharing?
Other kid: Where did you come from?
M: My mommy’s tummy.
At the end of class, her teacher came up to me telling me how happy she was that M was so confident enough to sing in front of everyone in the class. She was so delighted at her confidence and her performance.
I’m hoping that as she gets older, she will not lose her confidence and ease with public speaking. I know that I’ve always had a hard time being in front of a crowd just talking. While I love performing, I am terrified of public speaking. I hope that she will never develop that fear speaking in public.
That day was definitely a ‘proud mommy’ moment!
This is the story about sprinkles.
Yes, those sprinkles. Those sprinkles are M’s favorite ice cream topping. No matter where we go for ice cream, she always wants sprinkles.
One time, Hubby and M went on a daddy/daughter date to a local ice cream place. Hubby, always wanting to save an extra buck, decided to put that bottle of sprinkles into his pocket to add to M’s ice cream after ordering it.
The ice cream was ordered, and they went outside to eat their treats. Hubby pulls the sprinkles out of his pocket and adds them to M’s ice cream. She was delighted at the idea of “pocket sprinkles” and Hubby was so happy he was able to save a dollar.
Now, whenever we have ice cream at home, M always makes sure to ask for “pocket sprinkles.”
It’s totally a thing for our family now.
Sprinkles will just never be the same.
M made a major decision for herself the other day.
M made the decision to grow out her bangs.
M has had bangs ever since her hair was long enough and thick enough for them.
To save money, this past year or so, I’ve been the one trimming her bangs in between hair cuts.
She’s been due for a bangs trim over the past few weeks, but we’ve just been too busy to do so.
This past weekend, I was planning on finally giving her hair a trim, and she finally turns to me and says,
“Mommy, I just want to grow my bangs out.”
Wow. That came from out of no where. It never really occurred to me that she was conscious about her hair. I didn’t really she was old enough to think about those things. I didn’t think that bangs were a big deal. I’ve always had bangs, she’s always seen me with bangs, I just figured, she’d have them too.
She’s four and a half. She’s made her first real big girl decision. I mean, this feels bigger than deciding what shoes she’s going to wear today, or how many braids she wants in her hair (it’s usually two).
But, if you’ve read my blog over the years, you know I tend to add a lot of significance to things most people might find mundane…
It’s her decision, so I’m respecting it.
I also had to warn her that growing her bangs out is a process. She’s going to have to wear a clip in her hair for awhile, luckily, she has an endless supply. (Shameless plug: I make clips and sell them at my Etsy store, click here)
I also told her that it’s ok for her to change her mind.
So we’ll see how this goes. I’m curious to see how she looks without the bangs.