FLASHBACK: 27, February 2014.
Billie: “Mommy. I love you very twice.”
Me: “Very twice?”
Billie: “Yup! Dat’s a very much a lot.”
Me: “Aw, thanks, Billie. I love you so mu–”
Billie: “Oh, and mommy?”
Me: “Yes, love?”
Billie: “Our doggy is a butt princess.”
Well.
Okay, then.
Good talk.
Billie: “I wish I could be a dog so I can sniff things closer and dig lower like a dog. And lick the rain petals. I would lick all the rain dry.”
Billie: “We need to make a birthday cake.”
Me: “Who’s birthday is it?”
Billie: “Um. The day’s?”
Me: “It’s the day’s birthday?”
Billie: “Yea. This day has never lived before. Let’s bake it a cake.”
Me: “That is the coolest thing ever. Yes, I will bake a cake for the day.”
Billie: “Actually, no. I don’t think I want to do that. Let’s make a cake for my puppy dog.”
Me: “WHAT? You don’t wanna bake a cake for the day? I thought that was awesome.”
Doug (ever the buzzkill): “Why would you want her to bake a cake for the day?”
Me: “Because it’s never lived before!”
Doug: “Technically, it has. In a parallel universe.”
Billie: “YEA! That’s what I thought. That’s why I changed it to my puppy dog.”
Me: “Are you two kidding me?! Billie, you seriously just changed your mind because you had complicated thoughts on string theory?”
Billie: “Mommy. You don’t know my thoughts. It’s crazy in my head. Now let’s bake a cake for my puppy dog.”
Me: “Billie, I need my space.”
Billie: “NO SPACE. I EAT YOUR FACE.”
And, thus, I spend the rest of the day with her mouth attached to my cheek.
I can’t help but feel this is karma in motion.
Billie: “Do you smell that smell? It smells like a bread I used to have when I was a baby. I used to sneak it when you weren’t looking. I was a secret agent baby and I had a secret agent baby home and a secret agent baby computer. And I made an invention to make me grow bigger so that I would like that food that I’m smelling now. That was when I was little and now I am big. But I am still a secret agent.”
When you hand Billie a piece of curled over bacon she runs through the house screaming, “IT’S LIKE A MEAT CANDY CAAAAANE!!!”
…so there’s that.
My mom: “Billie, if you could be any character from ‘Frozen’ who would you be?”
Billie: “I would be the angry ice snowmonster that Elsa creates to protect her.”
My mom: “That is probably the coolest answer ever.”
Billie: “Of COURSE it’s cool. HE’S MADE OF ICE.”
“I can’t take a shower. All I can do is stay alive. And poop.”
And
“The Sandman got me in my eyes. Right in my eyes. All they want to do is close. I don’t think he knew that I was trying to party.”
I thought I was a freaking genius when I instituted the “no thank you bite” rule.
I thought I was freaking brilliant.
You see, Billie has always had an issue branching out and trying new foods.
She, quite unlike her mother, is a creature of habit. If you gave her the same meal for the rest of her life she would probably be just fine.
Hence the “no thank you bite” rule.
It compels her to take a bite of everything on her plate, even if she doesn’t really want to. She tries it once, says “no thank you” and we move on. 70% of the time she decides that whatever she just put in her mouth was actually delicious and, despite saying a quick “no thank you” after tasting it, she ends up going back to it.
Thus my daughter expands her food horizons, makes healthier choices, and, most importantly, I feel like a good parent.
Except when it backfires.
Apparently, in my excitement of instituting the “no thank you bite” rule, I forgot to also institute parameters. Namely parameters that prohibited me from having to be responsible for any “no thank you” bites…
I have had to eat some really disgusting stuff, guys.
No amount of “no thank you bite” solidarity is worth this.
Worse? Her talents for negotiation are growing. The following conversation ensued last night:
Billie: “Mommy, can you put a baby in your belly, please? I want a brother or sister. Please?”
Me: “No, baby. Not anytime soon.”
Billie: “How about a ‘no thank you’ try?”
Me: “…”
Billie: “Yup! You have to! A no thank you try!!”
I… I… Just…
Ugh.
Me: “Did you know that I love you?”
Billie: “Of course I know that.”
Me: “What?! Who told you??”
Billie: “Nobody told me. I just love you a lot. And when you love someone really, really a lot, like a super big lotta love, sometimes they have so much love that they give you some back.”
Billie's Momma 