Beauty Regimen

So Spills said to me today, "Do you think I look beeyootiful?"

"Of course," I said.

"Really, really beeyootiful?"

I looked at her more closely. She was fluttering her eyelids at me.

"Is there something on your eyelids?"

"Yeeees, Madame," in her best southern drawl.

They were glittering.

"What have you got on your eyelids?"

"Liiiip gloss."

Trying not to laugh, I repeated, "Lip gloss?"

"And on mah fingahnails." Waving them at me.

"Wow. Did you put any on your lips?"

"Yes, ah deed. And on mah cheeks and mah forehead."

Now I looked closely, I could see that she was glistening in a sticky sheen.

"Now ah just have to wait for it to drah."

"You may be waiting awhile," I said. "Lip gloss doesn't really dry. It's meant to stay sticky and wet."

Silence. "Well, how can ah do anything if it stays sticky and wet?"

"I don't know. It's the price of beauty, I guess. You could probably flip through a magazine. I think beeyootiful ladies like to do that."

She considered this for a minute. "Naw, ahm gonna do craaaaafts."

Weekly Routine

Spills said to me tonight, "I have so many things, I don't know what I'm going to do when I'm grown up."

"Maybe you can do a few of them," I said.

"I'm going to have a weekly routine."

"Really?"

"On the weekend, I'm going to rest."

"Sure, of course."

"On Monday, I'm going to be a waiter. On Tuesday, I'll be an author. On Wednesday, I'm going to help out at the zoo."

"Cool."

"On Thursday I'll get ready, because on Friday I'm going to serve you food."

"You're going to serve me food?"

"You and Daddy will come over on Friday, and you'll have grey hair, and I'll serve you food."

"Nice."

"But you'll have to live nearby. Maybe next door. Or maybe in the basement."

"In this basement?"

"Yes."

"Will we finish it first? Because it's kind of dark and yucky down there."

Hands on hips. Severely: "MOM."

The conversation was ended here, so I don't yet know exactly where Spills plans to put me when I'm old and grey. As long as she feeds me, though, I guess I'll be fine.

Starting Young

Spills said yesterday, "Everyone in my class says Brandon and I are getting married."

"Oh?" I said. "Why are they saying that?"

"Because Brandon says I'm smoking hot."

I practically choked on my milk. "He says what?"

"He says I'm smoking hot. I know what that means, too."

"Really? What does it mean?" Hoping my five-year-old wasn't going to really tell me.

"It means he has a CRUSH on me. Is that what it means? Does it mean he has a CRUSH on me?"

"It could mean that."

"I know he has a crush on me, because he always wants to sit next to me in calendar. And when we're outside, he rescues me from Cole."

"Who's Cole?"

"Cole's my boyfriend."

"Cole is? What about Brandon?"

"No, Brandon RESCUES me." Very patiently. "Cole chases me, and then I chase Cole, and then Brandon rescues me."

"I see."

Later, when Spills was in bed, I shared this interesting information with Daddy. Daddy announced that he wanted to have words with Brandon. And Cole.

Career Aspirations

So Spills said to me this week, "Mommy, I've decided what I want to go to University for."

"Oh yes? What is it?"

"To learn how to hold plates properly."

Thoughts Upon Meeting a Donkey

So we had a wonderful hike this morning along a country trail. The sky overhead was blue, and the air smelled of apples. Several farms backed onto the trail. In one of them were two donkeys and a beautiful horse. We spent a lot of time chatting with them. This led to a range of post-donkey thoughts on Spills' part.

1. I think one of the donkeys got out and is following us. I'M PRETENDING, MOM.

2. If we took the donkey home with us, how would we get him in the car? Oh, I know, we could put him on the roof.

3. The donkey could be an inside donkey during the winter and an outside donkey during the summer. What should he be right now, since it's fall?

4. Could the donkey sleep on my bed? Oh, no, wait, Lockey sleeps on my bed, and he'd be sad if the donkey slept on the bed too. I know, I'll get a sleeping bag and put it on the floor NEXT to the bed, and the donkey can sleep in that.

5. If the donkey's on top of the car, how will he be able to talk to us? THROUGH THE ANTENNA, OF COURSE.

6. I am going to call the donkey Apple Jean.

7. Do you think the donkey likes apples?

8. The donkey could do tricks while we were eating dinner.

9. If the donkey climbed trees to get apples, would he be scared? What if he couldn't get down again? I know, if he couldn't get down, he could just sit on a leaf. It's fall, so the leaf would come down pretty soon.

10. Do you think the donkey would miss his friends in the farm? Maybe they should come to our house too.

Countdown to Adolescence

So I stumbled into the kitchen this morning, to find Spills already chowing down on toast with her Daddy.

"Mommy! I have something funny for you!"

"Oh, good," I said, fumbling for the coffee.

"I have to count down from ten, and then I'll do the funny thing."

"Good. Let's see it."

Striking a dramatic pose, she began intoning her countdown: "Ten...nine...eight...seven...six...five...four...three...two...one...."

Then she tossed her head like a tiny Valley Girl, and in the most horrifically hormonal way, bellowed, "WHATEVER!!!"

First I laughed.

Then her Daddy and I stared at each other over her head, and we had the same thought: we are going to be in so much trouble in about five years.

Eureka!

So I got home from the movie I went to see with my friend (District 9 - we enjoyed it), and my hubby was waiting for me with great excitement.

"Your girl has big news," he said. "She wanted to stay up to tell you."

"What is it?"

Dramatic pause. "She rode her bike!!"

"She did?"

"She did!!"

"Really rode it? Like, pedalled and everything?" (Not that we doubt the mighty Spills' physical prowess or anything.)

"Really rode it!! It was sort of in a large circle, aiming at the school. But she stayed up, she righted her balance."

"Wow. Wow!"

"She was so proud of herself," my hubby said. "She kept shouting, 'It's the click! I'm clicking! I'm clicking!'"

"That might be because we talked the other night about how it would click. She wanted to know if it would make a noise."

We moved on to the subject of celebrations. "Well, she didn't want her bath," my hubby said. "She wanted a party instead."

"So did you have one?" It seemed like I'd missed all the excitement. Balloons, cake, games.

"Oh, yeah." My hubby beamed.

"Well? What did you do?"

"Coloured and listened to Sanjaya!!"

Of course.