Can’t forget…

I’m just like every other mom out there.  I swear I’ll never forget the cute little saying or quirky/incorrect use of a word that my girls occasionally mention.  But, I do.  When I finally get that moment to sit and “write it all down” they have escaped me.  Mary Clare has been on a roll lately, so while she’s napping this beautiful Sunday afternoon, I’ve decided to take a moment to write down a few…

Mel is on a business trip for the week and McCanless spent the night with Nonnie last night, so it was just Mary Clare and me lying in bed this morning.  She said, “Mom, you need to have another baby so Daddy won’t have any room at all to sleep in our bed.”

As I was tickling her foot after a bath earlier this week, I grabbed her little foot and pretended to munch on it.  I told her I was going to eat it up.  She said, “Mom, you can’t eat my foot!”  I replied, “Yes, I can.  I made it.”  She quickly came back with, “NO, you didn’t!  God did!”

After Mary Clare danced and sang and baton twirled her way through our church service today, we stopped to chat with Father Michael on the way out.  After a few hugs and high fives and as we were on the lawn of the church, she looked at me and said with such sincerity, “God is so nice, Mommy.”    (I had to turn around and tell Father Michael the high compliment that one of his youngest parishioners paid him today, then I took the car ride home explaining to MC that Father Michael was NOT God.)

I’ve learned that if we eat on the run, as we occasionally do,  it is in my best interest NOT to get meal deals with my girls.  They don’t eat french fries and usually waste most of the “meal” anyway.  It’s much better if I opt out of the “deal” and stick to a la carte ordering.   Mary Clare yelled at me on the way to Charleston this week after I handed her her lunch.  “Mommy, this is not what I wanted.  I need a Happy Meal, not this no-toy sad meal.”

We sing constantly.  In the car, at home, in the shower, in the bath, when a circumstance hits and an appropriate song comes to mind, we belt it out.  All four of us.  And after the July 4th week with the Woodhams, I realized that all of the Woodhams do it too.  (And usually add a dance along with it.)  Yesterday, I belted out something or another, and I heard a familiar and sassy little, “HUSSSSH!” To which I replied, “Why can’t Mommy sing, Mary Clare?”

“You make my ears rumbly, Mom!”

At Mimi and Bapa’s pool this weekend, MC asked why we were cooking black rocks for dinner.  Perplexed, we all searched the yard for a hint at what she may be asking about.  Someone caught a glimpse of the grill with black coals ready to be fired up and realized that it did seem as if we were about to roast a few black rocks on the grill!

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