I am responsible for putting dreams in her brain before she falls asleep.
It’s a part of our nighttime routine… I read a book, tuck in the kids, give them hugs and kisses…
…then I put my hand on the top of my youngest one’s head, murmur some nonsensical chant, ask her what she wants to dream about that night, chant a little more, and then tell her I put the dreams in there.
Sometimes, I tell her that I put in dreams about “Ice cream, puppies, and spiders.” Then she’ll say, “No! Not spiders! Take that one out!” So I put my hand back on her head and tell her I took it out.
Sometimes, if she’s having trouble sleeping, she’ll come into my room and request better dreams, because the ones I gave her aren’t working. It’s cute when she does it before 10 pm. It’s annoying when she does it after that.
Sometimes, I tell her it’s a “surprise dream.” In the morning, she tells me what she dreamed about, and I say, “Yep, that’s the one I put in there.”
My toddler believes that even if we make eye contact while playing hide-and-seek, I can’t see him as long as he stays quiet. I don’t mean a quick glance in his direction – I mean maintaining solid eye contact for 5 seconds or more.
It’s really funny.
Image Credit: Google Search
Couple of days ago I was alone at home with my five-year old. At some point I hear him say downstairs: “I love you.”
I asked: “Hey, who are you talking to?”
He responded: “Siri. She just updated my iPad and everything looks new.”
She’s not my child, but my niece is like my own little girl. And I’m blamed for her being spoiled.
One day, she threw a temper tantrum, screaming and crying and just losing it. Just so you understand how this looked, I’m a big guy mistaken for a linebacker. She was TINY, smaller than a average little girl her age, and in her big poofy pink dress. Hello Kitty shoes. So, instead of shaking my finger and hushing her, I just started crying too. She stopped immediately, not even a tear, and looked up at me like I was insane. She hushed me, looked around at people looking, and goes “STOP THAT! YOU’RE BEING AN EMBARRASSMENT!”
And I just whined real long and loud and said “But you wwooonttt stop cryyyuuuuuuuuuuunnnnnnnnnnnnnnn!!!!! HANH HANH HUUUNHHH!!!!”
And she put her hands on her hips, stomped her foot, and said “You stop it this instant! ACT YOUR AGE! THIS IS SHAMEFUL!”
She snatched her little purse and pushed me out so the other people wouldn’t see me crying and embarrassing her. I was “hurting her image.”
For years, she wouldn’t cry around me, because I was “bad, spoiled” and “didn’t know how to act.” So…yeah, she’d go in the toy store and when she’d start sniffling, I’d start too. So…:D For years, she believed I’d cry in public and throw temper tantrums.
She’s 17 now, but she refuses to let me enjoy that.
When my daughter was 3, for some reason she thought all bras were filled with air and every woman decided how much air she wanted in her bra.
Therefore, the made-up name by her for all bras was… “Airbra”.
“Mom, here’s your Airbra to put on.”
“Is it time for you to put on your Airbra, mommy?”
“I can’t wait until I get to have an Airbra!”
I had no idea why she was stuck in that thought because she sure knew what was in my bras, until one day we were all getting ready to go out to a restaurant. I looked at her and she had one of my bras on the OUTSIDE of her clothes and expected us to all go out to eat that way!
Only thing missing was some air for her Airbra so she’d look like her mom. It all made sense when she yelled , “MOM I NEED SOME AIR FOR MY AIRBRA BEFORE WE GO!”
Last year we were clothes shopping and I asked her if she needed any Airbras, of course smiling as I said it.
She looked at me like I was nuts.