Friday, July 8, 2011

Blow Horn

Our two-and-a-half-year-old came bouncing in our room this morning at 5:57am with gleeful sobriety and enthusiasm. "Mama, the sun come through my windows and I wake up!" she explained as she climbed into our warm bed.

I cracked open my weary eyes and she smiled sweetly at me about four inches from my face, her white mop hair glowing in a halo around her big kid head. Unlike her father or I, she had not enjoyed icy lime garnished beers til midnight talking away in our garden.
More sleep was in order for me so I got her to submit to more snuggle time so I could sleep a little more, feeling guilty for my indiscretions the night before.

Alas, the extra snooze time was short-lived as I was getting trampled on by thirty-five pounds of non-stop energy and getting mercilessly harassed with playing doctor.
I ultimately peeled myself out of bed and made my way down the hall holding my sweet little daughter's hand as she explained what it was she was to do that day with great sincerity.
We made it to the bathroom and I handed her the faded Elmo toothbrush that she covets so.

"Thank you, Mama" she said.
She really does have amazing manners.

"I do it pwleeease?" she asked, referring to adding the strawberry toothpaste.
"Of course. Thank you for saying 'please,'" I answered, and showed Vinnie how to do it neatly on the sink because she had been making attempts with the freakin' toothpaste in the hall, in her room, our room, her playroom...
"Ohohohooh" she was impressed by my tutorial.
She did it all by herself and handed me the toothpaste when she was done with an additional "Thank You."

Still weary, I closed the lid on the commode, sat down, and watched my sweet little darling brush her tiny Chiclet teeth.

About six or seven scrubs through over her pearly whites she says, "Hold this pwlease, Mama," and hands me her toothbrush.

"Uh sure, why?" I ask.

As she braced herself with one arm on the sink and the the other on the wall she tilted her teeny hips back and answered "Mama, I have to get the gas out of my butt." She expelled something out of her body that I had only ever heard in slapstick comedies before.

I screamed and gasped and she furiously tried to get more out, her face red and shaking, looking for me to give her the same boisterous initial reaction.

She then leaned back in to me and reached for her toothbrush.
"Thank you, Mama," she said.

Apparently her manners are gastronomical.

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