Wednesday, November 30, 2011

Heard Around, Part Nine

"I'm finished! May I please be excused from the table?"Eleanor says. Ah yes, that's the polite daughter that I raised.
"Yes, of course, please take your plate to the sink."
"No, I can't. Besides, you put the plate on the table, you should clean it up!"

No matter how many times I tell her she ate off of it, she needs clean to clean it up, Eleanor still feels as though since I put it there I should clean it up. I have told her many times, "you took the toy out, you need to clean it up," so now I feel like I don't have a leg to stand on. 


After tucking Eleanor into bed and relaxing in bed myself a few minutes later Eleanor comes in screaming in pain, "my finger hurts, my finger hurts!"

"What happened, sweetie?"

"I bit my finger!"

"Why did you bite your finger?"

"I was trying to bite it off!"

"Why were trying to bite it off???"

"I don't know!!!" she wails.

"Then how about you don't try to bite your finger off again."

"But I want too!!"

"Okay, Daddy - you take this one . . . "

I'm just not sure what to say to a kid when they want to bite their finger off.  I'm sure I handled that one badly too.


We are currently watching the '70s TV series version of Little House on the Prairie at night with the girls and grandma. On tonight's episode Pa had to walk 100 miles to find work, and while he's walking  Eleanor turns to me and asks in grave seriousness, "Mama, why doesn't he just get in his car and drive to work?"

Even after explaining they didn't have cars she still didn't get it and kept repeating, "but they could just drive there!"

"Uh oh Eleanor, you know you aren't suppose to jump off the top of the couch like that." It's a house rule, and she knows it.

"Don't say that, woman! Old woman!"

Not quite sure where she picked up this little gem. Also, clearly we are having some respect issues around here.


I tell Annabelle it is time for bed and she runs from me through the living room up through the dining room and all the way to the front door.  She plasters herself against the front door and as she has no where else to go she lays herself as flat as she can against the door, squints her eyes shut tight as I get close to her and announces (eye's still squeezed shut), "I'm sleeping! Sleeping!!"


As soon as Annabelle does something she knows she's not suppose to do, say hitting any one of us - she immediately follows up with, "Sorry! So sorry!"  She knows its wrong but she just can't seem to help herself!