Olivia was in rare form today. When she's feeling sassy, and I'm feeling mellow, we have a lot of fun together. Tonight we did each other's hair, as you can see. And being the Mom that I am, you'll note the Diamondbacks game we were watching as we embarked on this traditional mother/daughter ritual. Teaching her about hair AND the difference between hitting and pitching. She informed me that I looked "totally fabulous".
Some of today's gems...
At the dinner table: "Mommy, is it okay to say 'fiddlesticks'?" Olivia is learning about what is and is not appropriate to say. Not that she wants to follow the rules necessarily - you'll most likely find her enforcing it with someone else. At least I know it's in that little head somewhere.
"Yes," I said. "You can say that word."
"How about fucking fiddlesticks?" she adds with complete nochalance.
I can say with relative certainty that she didn't get that word from us, but she definitely knew it was NOT okay.
"Ummm," I said, "where did you hear that?"
She of course named names, and we explained that it was an inappropriate word, etc. etc., and to tell her friend next time that we don't say words like that. Which, I'm sure she'll do with great authority.
After we did hair on my bed: "Mommy, I'm a pop star."
"Oh, you are? Well, you need to go potty before you go to bed, which is in about five minutes," I replied.
You need to picture her, standing in the middle of my bed, hip jutting out, fist on hip, sassy tone. "Mom. Pop stars don't go potty."
"They don't?"
"No. Never." Case closed.
After taking a photo of our hairstyles: I told Olivia that we were taking a photo of our fabulous hairstyles for me to post on my blog.
"What's a blog, Mommy?" she asked.
"It's kind of like a diary," I said.
"DIARRHEA! Yuck! Victoria had diarrhea once..." subject officially changed.
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