Say What? Again?
Posted By jayna on April 21, 2011
So, this happened a few months ago, right? Little Miss Sassafrass got in trouble for one little swear word, but busted out the big one when it was time to own up to it. One time bump on the parenting highway, right?
Ahahahaha!
We’ve been staying with my mother back in Ohio for the past week or so, celebrating birthdays and spring break and Easter. My poor mother has been witnessing an insane display of sass and attitude from the newly-turned-four-year old and often shakes her head while reminiscing about how quiet and docile my sister and I were. Nothing like the bundles of wrongly directed energy bursting forth all over her house. And? I completely believe her, knowing full well that it isn’t a case of time wiping clean any unpleasant memories. We really were . . . dull.
Today, we decided to dye Easter eggs. I ran out early this morning and brought home two dozen. A few hours later, we were dipping and stirring and catching this egg before it hit the floor and grabbing that egg before it landed on the pile of others. Pure pandemonium. A preschooler and a toddler, dyeing eggs. Predictably crazy, but still something that has to be done around here. No dye cups were overturned, and 16 eggs actually survived the process. We’re down to just 12 now, but I’ll get to that part down the road.
As we were sitting at the table, starting to clean up the mess, someone got a sassy about something. When she was reprimanded, she turned to me and said – loud and clear – “Damnit!”
Off she went to time out, stewing and stomping the whole way. Her minutes passed and she was called back into the kitchen. As usual, I asked her why she went to time out, what she did wrong. Trying to stay one step ahead, I told her not to say the word she said, but just to tell us what she did wrong.
She looked up at me, just as she had a few months ago, and let it out.
“Fuck. I said fuck.”
There stood Grandma, at the kitchen sink, with tears rolling down her cheeks from laughing so hard, trying desperately not to let E see her. And there I stood, mouth hanging open, wondering where I had turned down this path again. As my mom laughed harder and harder, I had to join in. Once again, the kid found the way to stomp on me and my parenting.
I’ll take my Mother of the Year Award now, thankyouverymuch.
*******************
After recovering from our morning of fun, I had the bright idea to go ahead with our yearly Easter pictures. For the first time, I used our real dyed eggs in the prop basket.
Bad idea. Bad, bad idea.
And that, my friends, is why we’re down to just 12 eggs.
Nothing like smashing a few together in joy while wearing a fancy dress and smiling.
Never a dull moment! They look so cute, and the dresses are adorable–totally worth 4 broken eggs.
The cuter they are . . . y’know.
And they are DAMN cute.
So funny! I love your writing and your photography! So talented!