Oh, Charlotte

I've always been a big defender of toddlers, who I think get generally written off as high-maintenance, demanding little twerps who can run 100 miles per hour while simultaneously flushing dolls down the toilet, making artwork out of poop on the walls, and inserting $100 bills into the paper shredder.

I mean, all this is true, of course, but toddlers are also the most lively, joyful, animated, and HILARIOUS creatures on earth. The whole world is an adventure to conquer, and yet their frames of reference are so small that toddlers have to make sense of this great big world with, well, pretty limited information.

All this makes the stuff the spills out of their mouth (verbally, not food or drink-wise--I need to clarify that when discussing toddlers) pretty freaking funny. Lately, Charlotte--who is absolutely certain that everything she says is FACT--has kept Chris and me quite entertained.

The following is what our firstborn gave us in a single, joyful day of parenting.

Example A: Princesses
"I like princesses," Charlotte said.

"I do, too," I said. I mean, I do. I'm a girly girl and I LIKE PRINCESSES.

Charlotte, however, took it too damn far: "Girls like princesses, and boys like superheroes."

I gasped in feminist disbelief while Chris cracked up.

"Girls can like superheroes, and boys can like princesses, too," I said. I elbowed Chris. "Daddy, don't YOU like princesses?"

"What? Oh, yeah. I like princesses. A lot," Chris said, with not nearly enough enthusiasm.

Charlotte pondered this. "I like Spider Man," she said finally.

"Spider Man is awesome," I said. "What about Wonder Woman?"

Charlotte's face lit up. "I have Wonder Woman! I dress like her!" It's true. She has a fabulous Wonder Woman costume. She sat back, satisfied in her new understanding of life. "Boys and girls like princesses AND superheroes."

I smiled. Knowledge = imparted.

Example B: Princesses. Again.
Getting ready for bed, Charlotte announced that she didn't want to wear pajamas. This isn't a battle we pick with her, especially since she's a very hot little sleeper. (Inherited from her father--my goodness, the two of them have sleeping body temperatures that can't possibly be healthy.)

"Okay," I said. "But just so you know, I moved all your jammies to this bottom drawer." Duh. Took me long enough to figure out that she could more easily select jammies if she could REACH them, like she can with her underwear.

"Ohhhhhhh," Charlotte said, opening the drawer and admiring her nighttime wardrobe. "Um, maybe I'll wear jammies after all." She pulled out a yellow Belle princess nightgown.

"Alright," I said and helped her into it.

Once it was on, she twirled. "Mommy, I'm a princess!" Oh my. With her long wavy hair falling just right (for once) and her bright sparkly brown eyes lighting up her face---yes, she most certainly was a princess. Just the most beautiful girl.

"You're SUCH a princess," I told her.

"I am," she said authoritatively. "And now I need to go to the BALL!"

"The ball? What will you do there?"

"I'll dance!" she said.

"Oh, fun," I said. "Who will you dance with?"

"The prince!" she announced. Then her excitement faded. She frowned then added, "I guess." 

I laughed. I suppose the idea of dancing with icky boys is not the most appealing aspect of the whole princess thing.

Example C: Mommies and Daddies and Babies
Charlotte was playing with a Little People dollhouse set that I had oh so thriftily picked up at a consignment shop, and it has a mommy, daddy, and baby.

"Here's the daddy," Charlotte said, playing pretend with the little figure. "The daddy is going to work."

I nodded. Made sense.

"And here's the mommy. 'Wah! Wah!' The mommy is giving the baby a bottle."

Oh, lovely. "Is the Mommy going to work, too?"

Charlotte paused and thought a moment. "Maybe . . . yes. Yes, she is. But first she has to lift up her shirt and feed the baby. THEN she can go to work."

What can I say? The child knows exactly how life works.

Example D: Our House. And Princesses for a Third Time.
As we drove home from work and school, we came into town the back way. "Where's our house?" Charlotte asked.

"It's in that neighborhood over there," I said, pointing to what we consider the "back" of our neighborhood.

"Oh. Which house is ours?" she asked.

"Um, the pretty one," I said (even though you can't see it from the road). I mean, why not? I think it's pretty.

Charlotte's eyes widened. "The pretty one?"


"Like for a princess?"

"Sure," I said. "Don't you think our house is pretty?"

Charlotte nodded. "Yes, yes I do." Then, to clarify: "Our house is the princess house?"

"Totally," I said. "It holds you, Lorelei, Daddy, and me. We live there together, and we love our house. It's a very, very special house."

Charlotte grinned. Then, as we approached and then rolled up our driveway, she shouted, "Our house! Our house! It's the princess house! We're home at our princess house!"

I'm not gonna lie: Charlotte dubbing our abode as the princess house made it just a tad more special to me.

I'll stop there. The danger of a mommy blog such as this is that I have free reign to jabber on about my darlings for as long as I want, and at some point I have to remember to STOP TYPING.

I'll end with this: I love my Charlotte.


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