Christmas quotables

My daughter spends far too much time being quotable. Often for all the wrong reasons.

Christmas Day was no exception. After a sleepless night with the littlest Bear Cub, Eldest Bear Cub and her brother were up by 7 while their father slumbered peacefully. (To be fair, he was up by 8.) We ate a leisurely breakfast to be sure their tummies were full before we started on presents, and we only opened a few of the presents because we knew that Gramma and Grampa were coming for dinner and bringing Holly Jolly Excess with them, and because we are doing the Twelve Days again this year.

The present opening was lovely. The boy opened his armor and sword set, which he then proceeded to wear as he chased around the house screaming at the top of his lungs. I totally saw that coming. BC, on the other hand, opened several art-related gifts, and spent the rest of the morning coloring and using her new art supplies. She did beautifully with it all. But I left the room to get a shower and get ready for church. The littlest Bear Cub apparently was offended by my decision to get dressed rather than to come in and play with her, and so she commenced hollering and wailing. Apparently she wasn't the only one who was offended. BC assessed the situation and began to postulate about the end of the world. Because, wouldn't you? "Maybe it's the end of the world," she said, loudly, to herself. "Maybe this baby won't have time to grow up." I was troubled, but she assured me that all would probably be well since I came to get the baby. The imminence of apocalyptic conclusions depended upon the degree of baby's unhappiness, I guess.

That was followed by an incident while brushing teeth today: I accidentally got a touch of toothpaste on her thumb. She said, "Um, thanks for getting toothpaste on my thumb."

"Where have you learned to use sarcasm like that, BC?"

Long pause. "Umm, you?"

Yes, see, I knew that would be her response. I think I was just hoping it wouldn't be. "Honey, generally speaking, if Mommy does it, you shouldn't do it. You shouldn't talk like that."

"I shouldn't talk like a big person talks because then people will expect me to do big person things."

"What, like drive?" I asked.

"Yep. Or use scissors."

Scissors. I hadn't thought about scissors. But of course I"m sure she's right. But she continued: "Or climbing ladders."

I had no response to that.