So here’s what’s up:

The Dainty Flower is giving me mixed messages and now I’m anxiety ridden.

In one breath she is explaining how only girl mosquitoes bite people and that boy mosquitoes drink pollem, yes, with an “m” and it’s so cute that I don’t have the heart to tell her that a. it’s polleN, and b. they really drink nectar, and the next minute she is smearing herself with hot fudge and calling herself a sundae.

Then, at dance class…There is tons of cuteness in the costume…but instead of twirling and gracefulness during soothing classical music, we think it’s way more fun to hang on the bar, disrupt the class by running around, and tell everyone to move “faster, FASTER!” with the voracity of Debbie Allen in Fame. (We stopped attending and strangely the teacher has not BEGGED us to come back yet.)

Cooking with Mommy is always fun. She is able to hull and cut strawberries (with a knife mind you, ’cause we have MAD skills) and I am glowing with pride…yet when I turn around she is crying because she tried to put the tops in her eyes to have “strawberry eyes” and now the juice is stinging them.

At bathtime she is able to wash, play, and entertain herself for an hour–”Go away Mommy!”–and then I turn to look and she is sucking on her soapy washcloth fresh from a good bottom scrubbing.

She can name every color in her crayola box, yet wonders why they all taste the same…

She raids my tampon box and uses them as microphones…

……………………………………………………*sigh*………………………………………………………..

So here’s the thing…

Exactly where is the line that divides thinking “outside the box” genius or just retardation?

I am certified in Special Education and I don’t have an answer.

Everyone thinks that their child is “gifted”, and yet, are the Special Ed classrooms not teeming over?

I’m thinkin’ that the line between Forrest Gump and Einstein isn’t very wide at all.

However, if asked, The Dainty Flower is obviously gifted.

So she enjoys the many stinks of her body, loves putting random objects in her nose, licking people, and has walked around the house naked carrying a marker in her butt.

She’s just gifted comedically.

Now I just have to find the preschool attached to the “Laugh Factory” and I’ll be all set…

“Good Morning.”

“Good Morning Mommy.”

“Why are you covering your ears?”

“They’re too loud!”

“Who’s too loud?”

“The birds.” I faintly hear a mourning dove and something else tweet.

“The birds?” smiling

“Yes Mommy. They’re too loud and hurting my ears.” VERY serious

“Well, I’m not sure how we can fix that.”

*resigned sigh*

“Well, I guess you’re just going to have to tell them they have to move.”

And that’s how we started our day….

And there I was, minding my own business, getting the Dainty Flower ready for her bath…it had been a hard day of playing and she was ripe.  When we got to the socks, she ripped them off, shoved her stinky toes in her face and proclaimed loudly, “Mmmm, that’s  just the way I like them!”

Apparently she learning to generalize her smells….and is proud of each and every one.

 

or, Things that are cute when you are little, that are NOT when you are a grown up.

1. Chewing with your mouth open to “show” me (with an emphatic, “SEE!”) that you are, in fact, eating your dinner.

2. Throwing yourself on the floor of the library screaming and crying– we call it “The Flop”–when disappointed that your favorite movie or book has been taken out.

3. Wetting your pants. (“I just had a little leak Mommy.”)

4. Jumping knees first onto Daddy’s tummy, and landing a little bit lower….

5. Ripping one in the bathtub and looking back to wonder where it came from–then laughing hysterically and proudly announcing it to everyone.

6. Pooping so big you HAVE to bring in your friends and parents to see.

7. A stranger compliments how cute you are, and you promptly reply, “I know.”

8. Eating a Ghiradelli Hot Fudge Sundae with such gusto that you need to put the spoon down and use your hands–smearing your entire body in the process.

9. Someone gives you bad news and you feel compelled to crawl under the nearest chair and shout, “No! No! No! I will NEVER do it! NE-VA!”

10. You see your Daddy getting dressed, and as he bends down to put his first leg into his boxers, you run up behind him, grab his dangly bits and proudly yell, “Daddy’s got a TAIL!”

I would like to introduce you to The Dainty Flower.

Did you say, “AWWWWW”?

Yeah, I have to admit, she’s pretty cute.

(Oh, btw, the little cowgirl was just playing dress-up and posed on her own. I am not some crazy Jon Benet-style pageant Mommy….but I digress.)

I’m here to inform you that we’ve reached a new phase in this household:

LYING

And not just, “I didn’t eat the cookie” with crumbs around the mouth cuteness either.

No, this is a whole different deeper layer of bulls&*%.

This is the, “We didn’t pick up the cat like a suitcase and color on his 17 year old body with permanent flourescent marker” kind of lying.

Stop smiling.

It’s NOT funny.

She doesn’t stop with the solitary lie either…she’s already getting her friends on board! Afterthought comments of, “right Bella?” warm the cockles of my heart as her deception spreads like plague. What’s the cliche? A chip off the old block? Again, I digress…

Bella (who doesn’t realize my daughter is throwing her under the bus) quickly chimes in, “Right Faryn!” before we (the mommies) can stop her. The whole production is only missing a wink and a nudge, if you know what I mean…

And as for the cat, he is now laying in the litter box to hide. That’s right folks–it’s preferable to the cat to be sitting in it’s own feces than be “loved” on by my Dainty Flower.

Can you imagine what fun she’ll be as a teen?!

It is inevitable.  As soon as my daughter gets within the confines of any bedroom with a friend…her clothes come off.  It happens so fast, that I am convinced they remove themselves as she approaches the room in some sort of cosmic toddler/pre-school portal.

How do I know this occurs EVERY time?  The stunning conga-line processional that follows of, “Naked! Naked! NAY-KED!”complete with booty shaking and Carmen Miranda arms.   I imagine it’s exactly what Adam and Eve did in the Garden of Eden before the unfortunate fruit eating incident.

The sheer joy of it all, the reckless abandon, left me at pique intrigue.  I decided to try it.  I waited patiently until the Dainty Flower went to bed, and the boy was at band practice.  To get the full effect, I threw my clothes on the floor as fast as I could and, ahem, shook my “money maker” for all it’s worth.

I didn’t shout the customary song (see above), but gave the Naked Dance a good go–complete with conga booty thrusts.  I was only missing fruit adorned headgear–but this is the Naked Dance after all.  I was having a great time and thought that my daughter was brilliant…I couldn’t wait for the boy to get home to have him join in the revelry!  This is GREAT! I can’t believe I haven’t done this before!  I’ll start a new sensation!

And then I glanced up and checked myself out in the mirror.

And realized that when my body stops moving, my arms, butt, and stomach…DON’T.

Immediate thought:  “I know what makes an ocean wave, wave” from Boston Museum of Science commercial, circa 1982.

Stunning realization:  What once was a “money maker” I believe, may be reduced to a change machine.

No. More. Naked. Dance.

I’m going to leave it to the professionals.