Walker Percy . . . kind of

She's a great fan of Thomas the Tank Engine. For those who don't know, there is a little green engine called Percy who appears in many of the Thomas stories.

As Matt was driving her to her Pop Pops's house the other night, he was telling her what he has been reading, as he often does. (We wonder why she converses as she does.) He said, "I've been reading a book by Walker Percy."

Her face lit up. "Percy! Percy and Thomas?"

"Well, no, honey," he replied. "Walker Percy was a southern agrarian author and --"

"Percy and Thomas! And Mavis! And Salty!"

And so begins the juvenilization of Walker Percy.

Expostulate, Forrest! Expostulate!

This was a day of philosophizing, Forrest Gump style.

This morning, she was starting to be a little stinky and I asked if she had a dirty didie. She replied, "Yes, I have a dirty didie. Sometimes this happens." Thank you, Forrest.

Later, as she was waiting for Daddy to come in from mowing the lawn and I was clearly being inattentive to her, she flopped herself across the coffee table and said, "Tell me what the truth is." I could think of nothing to say on the spot other than, "God is love." She looked a bit skeptical, then said, "Tell me what the other truth is."

She about melted my heart today as she learned to play with older kids who also happened to be boys. They were swinging around on a Little Tykes slide cube and playing with a Little Tykes car. She was so interested in what they were doing, but she was just too little and she didn't know them at all, though they knew each other. To say that she was an outsider in their games is to put way too fine a point on it. I don't know if watching something like that touches other moms' hearts, but it sure broke mine. I just wanted to run over and help her get involved, but I knew that wouldn't do any good.

As I watched, one of them literally gave her a foot to the face entirely accidentally. She didn't cry. She stepped back and looked up at what he was doing, taking it all in and not fighting at all.

But the best part was when the boys were playing on the slide cube and she thought she'd take her turn with the car. The boys then decided (probably upon seeing her with the car, as kids will do) that they wanted to play with the car and they ran over and shoved her away from it and got in themselves. She looked at them without any anger in her voice and said, "Aren't we sharing?"

I love this child more than life itself.

Our little Pooh Bear

Monkey was sitting on the couch reading the giant A.A. Milne collection and her Daddy came in from putting away dishes.

"What are you doing, Monkey?"

I replied that she was reading Pooh Bear. Daddy said, "You're a Pooh Bear, Monkey!"

"No! I am not a Pooh Bear! THIS [pointing to an illustration of Pooh Bear] is Pooh Bear."

"You're a Pooh Bear!" he repeated.

"I am NOT a Pooh Bear. THIS is Pooh Bear."

"You're a Pooh Bear!" he repeated again.

"I AM NOT A POOH BEAR! THIS is a Pooh Bear. Go back in the kitchen, Daddy!"

Eine Kleine Narcissism

She repeatedly asked to watch the video of herself saying the Jabberwocky. Again. And again. And again.

She now knows how to say, "No narcissism here."

Don't throw me in dat dere Briar Patch!

Today she directly disobeyed me by doing exactly the opposite of what I had told her to do. She knows that we will first give her an opportunity to fix the problem, and then we will put her in her crib until she agrees to acknowledge what she did and to fix the problem. I began the first step of the process, which triggered a tantrum, and then I started into the "you're going to have to go into your crib" part. She knew it was coming, and she headed me off at the pass:

"Can I go in my crib?"

It was like talking to Brer Rabbit.

I asked her to repeat herself, which she did, and then I told her she could not go into her crib. Instead, she had to go to the red chair and sit in it until she could tell me what she did and agree to fix it. She sat down in the chair and said, "Can Ellie look out the window?" No, you must sit there. What did you do wrong, Ellie? "I don't remember." I asked again. "No, I'm not going to tell you what I did wrong. I'm just going to sit and think about it."

It's getting harder and harder to keep a straight face when I discipline her.

Exotic farm

As she was playing with her Fisher Price farm playset, she began to list off the animals inside: "Horsey, cow, zebra . . ." I (quite reasonably, I thought) asked her, "What's a zebra doing in your farm?" "He's looking out the window." Ah. I see.

Later, I texted her father to tell him the above and he replied that he missed her. So I thought I would have her say something I could text back to him. I said, "What do you want to say to Daddy?" And she responded with the line he repeats to her at every meal (and every other opportunity) daily: "It's always fun to be neat and clean!" He was touched.