Said Eva

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Yesterday I shared my boy’s most recent page out of “Kids Say the Darndest Things.” Tonight, we hand the mike over to the girl…

Me (while reading “Put Me In the Zoo”):  “What do you think this word is?  It starts with a ‘V,’ and it’s another name for ‘purple.’”
Eva:  “Vurple?”

After I interrupted her, causing her to forget what she was going to say next:  “Mama!  You’re talking so loud that I don’t know where my talking is!”

Me:  “Eva, I don’t think you should wear these tappy shoes with this outfit.  They’re more for dresses.  They won’t really match your shorts.”
Eva:  “Well, I want to wear my tappy shoes, because people will think I’m very useful.”

As a jogger approached:  “Mama, why is that lady running at us?”

Chasing the dog around with a biscuit:  “Rooosie!  I have a tummy yummy for you!”

As I picked up some speed while pushing Anna on her tricycle:  “Mama, don’t run in those sandals!  You could fall!”

Me (getting her ready for a trip to Roaring Brook Park):  “Grandma’s taking you and Tyler to a every special place today.”
Eva:  “Oh!  Is Anna going, too?”
Me:  “No, not yet.  Anna’s too little.”
Eva (sighing):  “Oh.  I wish Anna was old enough for adventures.”

Me:  “Did you know you’re my little girl?”
Eva:  “Did you know you’re my big mama?”  (Not exactly the desired response.)

Closing the door and cornering Anna with a pack of barrettes: “Come here, Anna.  This won’t hurt a bit!”

When I tried to skip one of the 42 pages in “The Cat in the Hat”:  “No, Mama!  There’s more talkin’ in this book!”

Eva (in response to Anna’s “umph” as she hoisted herself into the van):  “Anna!  Don’t say ‘UMPH’!”
Me:  “Why can’t she say ‘umph’?”
Eva:  “Because!  It’s not a steep mountain!”

After whacking her toe on an open drawer:  “Mama, I bumped my toe, and I’m NOT feeling fine!”

When the bell on her bike wouldn’t ring:  “Why isn’t my bike bellin’?”

Me:  “You are a little princess.”
Eva:  “But I want to be a mermaid-pirate-fairy princess!”

As I tried to help her off her swing:  “No, I can get myself off myself!”

Gazing into the Bean’s eyes:  “Mama, there’s two Eva’s in Bean’s eyes!”

Me:  “Do you want to play hide and seek?”
Eva:  “OK!  I’ll hide in the closet, and you try to find me!”

Said Tyler

One of the best things I ever did since I became a mother is, every time something sweet, funny or thought-provoking comes out of my kids’ mouths, to stop everything and write it down.  There is scrap paper floating all over my house—on little pieces of memo paper, the margins of shopping lists, on junk mail envelopes and the backs of receipts—of all my kids’ witticisms of the day.  Every chance I get, I compile them into their own personal book of quotations.  Who knows, maybe they’re only cute and funny to their mother, but I decided to share them anyway.  This evening, Tyler gets the spotlight and the mike.  Enjoy.

Over a big plate of spaghetti:  “Can I have another napkin?  Mine is all sauced out.”

Tyler:  “Mom, do bears come to our driveway?”
Me:  “Not usually.  Bears are afraid of people, so they don’t like to come too close to the house.”
Tyler:  “Do they like to step on puzzle boxes?”
Me:  “It’s not likely that a bear would step on your puzzle box, if that’s what you’re asking.”
Tyler (genuinely confused):  “Then why did you make me bring it back in the house?”

Me (after kindergarten orientation):  “Aren’t you excited to see all the kids in your new class?”
Tyler:  “Will the adults be in my new class, too?”
Me:  “No, they were just there for orientation.  Why, do you like adults better than kids?”
Tyler:  “Yes.”
Me:  “How come?”
Tyler:  “Because they get me stuff in the refrigerator that’s too high for me to reach.”

Tyler (as he watched me crack a bowl of walnuts):  “Mom, I want to plant a walnut tree in our yard.”
Me:  “Well, maybe we can!”
Tyler (examining a walnut): “But, does it have a seed?”
Me:  “Yes, everything that grows has seeds.  I’m pretty sure the walnut is the seed.  I’ll have to find out about that.”
Tyler:  “Maybe you should give it an X-ray.”

Tyler (analyzing his puzzle):  “Wait! I know where it goes!”  (popping the piece in place)  “See?  That’s where it goo!”
Me:  “You mean, that’s where it WENT?”
Tyler:  “Oh.” (smiling sheepishly)  “I forgot what to say.”

Tyler:  “I can’t wait to get these Wedgits in the clear box with the blue handle!”
Me:  “Maybe for Christmas. But we don’t have the money to get that right yet.”
Tyler:  “Daddy has money.”
Me:  “He does?  Well where is he hiding it?”
Tyler:  “It’s in his pocket.”  (Patting his left hip, looking both ways and lowering his voice)  “You have to look in this one, right here.”

Eva:  “Mama, I don’t suck my thumb anymore!”
Me:   “Yes, you do.  I just saw you sucking your thumb ten minutes ago.”
Eva:  “No I don’t.  I do NOT suck my thumb!”
Me:   “Yes, you do.  You’re a chronic thumb-sucker.”
Eva:  “What does ‘chronic thumb-sucker’ mean?”
Tyler: “It means you have thumbsuckerosis!”

Eva (holding up a flower girl dress): “Mama, is this the dress you wore when you got married?”
Me:  “No, that dress is for kids.  When I got married, I was twenty-nine years old.”
Tyler:  “See, Eva?  That can’t be Mom’s dress.  Hers was a size twenty-nine.”

Watching the water drip out of the filter:  “Is it done filting yet?”

Me:  “Guess who’s coming over today?”
Tyler:  “Who?”
Me:  “Grandma!”
Tyler:  “Which one?”
Me:  “Grandma Lariviere!”
Tyler: “But we just saw Grandma Lariviere yesterday.”
Me:  “So?”
Tyler:  “After we see Grandma Larivere, we need to see Grandma Petrovits.  Then, Grandma Lariviere again.  Tell the grandmas they need to make a pattern!”

Tyler (as I stood by the edge of the pool):  “Why aren’t you coming in?”
Me:  “Because I’m too tired today.”
Tyler: “That’s OK.  You can sleep in the pool!”

Me (examining his foot): “I told you to stop growing your feet when they were this big.” (holding out my hands)  “But now they’re already this big.” (stretching hands wider).
Tyler (measuring a foot with one hand):  “Look!  They’re so big they almost broke my fingers!”

Indignantly, after I handed him his outfit of the day:  “Mom, you gave me Eva’s skirt.  And it’s a size FOUR!”

The Top 10 Things a Mother of a Toddler, Preschooler and Kindergartener Longs For

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When I first took to the task of potty training, my first two kids were more than two and a half years old before they discovered the white bowl in the bathroom was for something other than flushing random objects around the house.  My third found out much sooner.  Why?  Not because she was ready any sooner than her brother or sister.  Plain and simple, it was the price of diapers that wore me down.  I was tired of paying fifty cents every time she peed.

Here are 10 more things I’ve been longing for over the past six years—so much, in fact, that I get misty-eyed just thinking about it:

#10:  When every tissue box in the house doesn’t look like this (see pic).

#9:  When thirty-plus-pound, ambulatory children no longer desire to be carried.

#8:  Being able to leave the house without locating, affixing, velcroing, tying and/or buckling a total of eight shoes (including my own).

#7:  Sitting on the couch without a fear of falling (i.e., discovering someone removed every last cushion).

#6:  When every member of the house can blow his or her own nose unassisted.

#5:  Hearing the word “mine” without losing an eardrum.

#4:  Actually being able to keep toilet paper in the toilet paper dispenser (without the house turning into the get-off-my-lawn guy’s yard on Halloween).

#3:  Taking more than three steps without tripping on, then being mocked by, a talking or musical toy.

#2:  No more hooks, latches or gates that perplex me more than they do the children.

#1:  No more pee droplets on, around, near and far away from the toilet seat.  (Well, to some extent, maybe that will never change.)

Parents of teenagers, bite your tongues. As of now, these are my own personal war stories.