Rachel's new favorite word and other scenes

One afternoon I find my girls in the family room watching a movie, one child sitting in a cardboard box, the other crawling through one. Rachel pulls a broken box over her body and announces that it is her new outfit.

"My outfit is stupid," she tells us.

*******

Anna was recently given a Hannah Montana balloon. One side of the balloon features a picture of Miley Whatsherface, the other side is Hannah. Rachel is walking around with that balloon, chatting away to it and acting out little scenes.

She comes to me and says, "Mommy, my baby has two faces!" She tugs on the string of the balloon and tells me, "But just one leg."

After a minute she adds, "Mommy, my baby is stupid."

*******

I drag myself into the kitchen to find a snack for Anna who, judging the way she's been eating for the past month, is about to become three inches taller. I have a bit of a cold and my head hurts and my back aches as I stretch to reach the box of granola bars in my cabinet. I look down at my salivating oldest child, her hands twitching as she watches me reach into the box. "Please ask your sister if she wants a granola bar."

Without moving an inch - or taking her eyes off of the food - Anna screams: "RACHEL! DOYOUWANTAGRANOLABAR?!"

*******

Just when I think I'm totally losing my mind I give Rachel a bath - a task that would normally send me over the edge completely. Tonight though she gives me a break and is unusually calm and complaint-free. I start to relax when she "swims" up to the side of the tub and places her wet, broadly smiling face an inch from mine. She studies my face for a long moment and then giggles. "Ahhh, we have the same eyes." She pats my cheek with her wet hand and "swims" away.

She didn't even call me stupid.

I fully admit I have only myself to blame

This morning my baby stood in the doorway of the kitchen and bellowed the following at me:

"HEL-LOOO! I am still waiting for my water!"

Sigh.

Overheard in the three-year-old classroom

When I first started working with three-year-olds I was warned about the pitfalls - the tantrums, the messes, the inordinate amount of bodily fluids. I've been lucky enough to have amazing kids in my classes though - bright, sweet, adorable and endlessly entertaining. One of the best parts of my job is the moments of unexpected hilarity, courtesy of the preschool mind.

Girl 1: I like your dress.
Girl 2: Thank you. It's MINE.

*******

Boy (holding toy phone): Emergency, emergency, come quick, my baby is sick!
Girl (runs across room and sits in front of Boy)
Boy: This is only for the emergency.
Girl: I AM emergency.

*******

Boy: Did you know my Grandpa?
Teacher: No, I didn't.
Boy: He died.
Teacher: I'm sorry to hear that.
Boy: Yeah. Hashem killed him.

*******

Boy (exiting bathroom stall): You know, when I just go pee-pee I only wash my hands with water.
Teacher: Well toilets have lots of germs, so whenever you touch a toilet you should use soap.
Boy: But when I just touch my penis it's ok.

*******

And finally, this gem, shared with me by a parent:

Boy: Guess what? Today we learned about vulva!
Mom: Really. What did you learn about it?
Boy: Well, it's really dangerous. And hot. And you never ever touch it.
Mom: Ok... so, where do you find this vulva?
Boy: In volcanoes.

And this is four?

The past 48 hours have been rough for Rachel. I'm not sure why exactly, I'm just going by her general demeanor. Which has been cranky. Frustrated. Extremely put out. Nothing has made this child happy for days.

Last night Rachel's bath water was too cold and then she didn't want to sit in the available spot in the tub. Then she complained about the body wash and then, oh my goodness, I did not hand her the washcloth fast enough. As she was expressing her displeasure she waved her hands around - the better to make her point - and her right hand splashed into the water. At which point she screamed, "I don't want to be WET!" Which made me laugh. I'm only human.

My unfortunate parenting misstep caused an F4 level storm of rage to spew forth from my baby. Anna glanced over at the tantrum going on next to her and calmly asked if she could get out. I'm pretty sure she actually rolled her eyes as stepped past her sister out of the tub.

Twenty minutes later the whining continues, with some foot stomping thrown in for variety. I seek refuge in Girl Scout Cookies and get caught. Rachel sees me sneaking one in the dark kitchen and immediately begins her interrogation.

"WHAT is THAT?" she demands and holds out her hand, somehow expecting to be rewarded for two hours of screaming. I take a deep breath and tell her she may have one as soon as she eats her dinner. I think briefly about fleeing before the next onslaught but I am too late.

"I don't want dinner! It's yucky and disgusting! I don't want you to talk to me! Don't look at me! DON'T LOOK AT ME! I don't want..." Suddenly, and for the tiniest second, she stops. She turns around and marches back to me. "I WANT YOU!" She throws herself onto my leg.

Four on Rachel looks so very different than it did on Anna.

Well trained

"Pretend you're Sleeping Beauty and I'll kiss you awake," I suggest.

Rachel's eyes light up for a moment before she squeezes them shut and ever so slightly puckers her lips in her feigned sleep.

I lean over, pausing for a moment to watch the corners of her mouth begin to dimple as she holds back laughter, and finally kiss her. Her eyes fly open and she shrieks.

"AAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!" She slaps my cheek. "Don't kiss me!"

Leave it to my little girl to rewrite the fairy tale.

Is this five?

Anna spent a full twenty minutes today shining a green Tinkerbell flashlight through a glass of water.

First it was a tall glass that had a pattern on it and then she insisted on a short, unadorned juice glass. She walked around the house, turning off lights and holding the glass up to different surfaces. She observed how the reflections looked against the wallpaper, the cabinets and various pieces of furniture. She looked at the patterns in the bathroom mirror.

Finally she returned to the kitchen to ask me, "Is this science?"

So far, five is kind of awesome.

The child has excellent comedic timing

For the last year and a half Rachel has been sleeping with Scooby Doo. The relationship began with an innocent soap dispenser and is described here. When it became clear that Scooby was in Rachel's life to stay, the soap dispenser was replaced with a much more appropriate plush toy who usually stays in Rachel's bed with her three other bedmates: a pink teddy bear, a baby doll and a red-haired doll - all named Shauna.

A few days ago Rachel finds a random baby doll and shoves it with her usual tender grace into a baby carrier. "Mommy, my baby's name is... Chana." This doesn't surprise me, Chana is Anna's Hebrew name.

Minutes later Rachel takes a stuffed kitty toy and squeezes it into the carrier next to baby Chana. "Mommy, my baby's name is Chana and my kitty's name is Chana. All of my babies are named Chana."

Dan and I try our hardest to hide our giggling but we lose all control as Rachel continues. "But my last one is Scooby."