I have written a number of times about our two-year old daughter Abby, who is ridiculously cute now. To make matters cuter, she pronounces the letter “f” as an “s” sound, so we get to hear this type of banter each day:
“Mama, kitty cat too sussy cute.” In the preceding sentence, “sussy” is “fluffy”.
“Dada, I was you.” I have actually shared this phrase here on my blog before – it’s Abby’s way of saying “I love you.”
“Dada, make a sunny sace.” You can probably decode this one by now.
She likes to see “sours” (flowers), “goggies” (doggies), and “sroggies” (froggies).
Anytime we are near a cute animal of any kind, she asks, “Can I pet him?” Sometimes, it is a rabbit, and they are simply too fast to pet effectively.
Recently, I have realized that Abby is the most independent child we have had, although some of this may stem from the fact that she is our youngest and my wife and I are too tired to properly conduct our parenting duties, so she is forced to fend for herself more. I am (half) joking.
One very cool result is that Abby is the first of our three children to take an active interest in potty training. When our older kids were smaller, people would say things like, “Well, they’ll get the hang of it before they leave the house. Hahahahaha!” I wasn’t so sure, and I didn’t honestly appreciate the smug and overly confident laughter. But I digress…
Abby has successfully completed both of the major potty functions IN THE ACTUAL POTTY now, so we are well on our way to a new joyous day in the Crouch household.
The other day, my wife made the remark that Abby enjoys helping with housework. WHAT?!? This was such a foreign concept that it took me a minute to process this information. My other kids become decorative pillows when the subject of chores is raised. They sort of melt into the couch upholstery, zapped of all youthful energy. I have sometimes thought it would be funny to say this in rapid-fire succession:
“Kids! Ice cream time! Chore time! Ice cream time! Chore time!”
I could then watch them leap up, then slump over, then run, then fall to the ground in a fetal position and a glazed expression of fierce ennui.
Maybe tomorrow I will do just that.
Thanks for reading!