This last May, on the way to school one day, my oldest was deep in sharing his future business plans with me, ones involving a video game design empire. Midway through his description of his employee incentives program, Baby-Girl interrupted from the back seat.
â€œIâ€™ve lived for a whole decade!â€
I acknowledged the milestone. My son resumed describing his plans, only to be interrupted by her again: â€œOr wait. Maybe itâ€™s a century. I always get those two mixed up.â€
As soon as we got to school, I stopped and wrote her words down on the back of a receipt, wanting to remember what she said. Iâ€™ve been, for the most part, negligent about this, about writing down all of the wonderfully fun things she says, despite the hundreds of times Iâ€™ve thought of doing it. That morning, I decided to be more intentional about recording these gems of hers.
In the weeks since, Iâ€™ve still mostly failed at gem preservation, but I have managed to write down five more of them.
I. Baby-Girl: â€œDad, did you know that Solomon had seven hundred wives?â€
LCB: â€œYeah, pretty wild, huh?â€
Baby-Girl: â€œWhatâ€™s with that? I mean, did he even read the Ten Commandments?â€ Righteous indignation and attention to detail are specialties of hers.
LCB, holding his expression steady as best he could: â€œPlus, he had three hundred girlfriends.â€
Baby-Girl: â€œOh, yeah, you mean Samaritans. Thatâ€™s right.â€
LCB: â€œI think they were actually called concubines.â€
Baby-Girl: â€œOh, yeah. Thatâ€™s the word. I knew it started with an â€˜S.â€™â€
II. This one came out while she brainstormed for names for a business she wants to start. She realized she had written the same name twice on her list, reflected for a moment, and said, â€œI think alike a lot. (Pause.) With myself. (Pause). My brain is weird that way.â€
III. During a discussion LCB and I had on adult obesity rates, Baby-Girl sat nearby drawing quietly. At one point, however, she looked up, wide-eyed and serious, to announce, â€œI donâ€™t want to get to the age where I canâ€™t eat Cheez-Its!â€
IV. Last night, when Baby-Girl was going to bed, she whipped out her typical stalling maneuvers. After three or four of her attempts at engaging me in philosophical discourse, I got up to leave. She was sprawled out on her bed atop blankets and forty-seven stuffed animals, and as I walked toward her door, telling her we were finished with discussions for the evening, she pointed to her blankets and said, â€œMom, câ€™mon! Canâ€™t I at least have a proper tuck in?â€
V. Finally, this is my personal favorite.Â As she was packing for a sleepover one afternoon, I looked in her bag and noticed she had packed three socks. I donâ€™t mean she packed three pairs of socks; I mean three individual socks.
â€œWhy did you pack three socks?â€ I asked, and she answered, â€œWell, you said to pack extra, so I packed one pair for tomorrow plus one extra sock.â€
She said this in all seriousness, as if it explained everything, so I asked, â€œWhat in the world kind of good is one extra sock going to do you?â€
â€œOh, you know,â€ she said casually, â€œin case I step in poop with one foot or something.â€