If I disagree with anything Amy says, she might say “I was making a joke about it.”
She likes to run through her repertoire of jokes, or make up new ones. She likes the one about the elephant standing on the marshmallow (so he won’t fall in the hot chocolate), and it’s been integrated into pretend play at various times.
If she wants to do something, she might say, “Because I was dreaming about that in my bed / nap time,” or “Because that’s the way I feel.”
If she is too slow to do what I’m asking her to do, I might do it for her — like getting in the car seat. She’ll say “That’s not the way I feel,” or “I don’t like the way you’re behaving.”
She might say “I love you” rather too frequently if she’s feeling insecure or in need of attention or wants us to stop being grumpy or frustrated.
She might say anything rather too frequently, sometimes verbatim, sometimes with many variations.
She still thinks that even if she’s in another room, we can hear her clearly and can see what she’s looking at or talking about. Likewise when she’s talking on the phone. I think she thinks I can’t see her if she closes her eyes.
Despite her vast vocabulary and language skills, she still often gets stuck in wordless efforts to get something — whines, grunts, wiggles, reaching.
This morning she was sitting at her little table reading her magazine while eating breakfast.
Lately, the ghosts go with us everywhere. There’s a daddy ghost, a mama ghost, and an Amy ghost. I think it started with a game of pretending to be scared, with a friend.
She continues to enjoy BSF (Bible Study Fellowship), where she’s started to catch on to memory verses. Her first one was John 15:5, and this week it’s 1 John 4:19. Church just started a Sunday School class for her and the other young child, a two-year-old boy. She seems to like that, too. And she loves dance class. She often plays that she’s teaching BSF, an exercise class, or a dance class.
Feb 18: Amy put a stamp sticker on Mark last night, and when he asked where she was going to mail him, she thought for a moment and said “Maybe to someone who doesn’t have a dad.”
Feb 16: Playing with the cat toys (an old plastic “tin” soldier, I think, in particular) — “He walks and snipes, he walks and snipes, he walks and snipes.” (Snipe is a family word for fart.)
Feb 10: Amy cracked me up this evening reading the pretend Bible to Mark. There were phrases from the Pledge of Allegiance (learned at Bible Study Fellowship, so I guess for her there’s a connection; I don’t mind her learning it but I’d rather she learn it at school than at Bible study), among other things. Wish I could remember all the funny bits.
Feb 6: Amy, bringing me a small card she’s been coloring on: FASHION! Also, she says stars are made of spit. The FASHION! thing also happens when she’s playing with her magnetic dress up dolls. When she completes an outfit and wants me to look, instead of asking me to look, she just yells FASHION! and repeats it with attitude if I don’t look right away.
(We seem to be well on our way into the “Look! LOOK! Look at meeeeee!” stage. “Can you watch…?” “Do you see a dancer in this house?” and so on.)
She’s also pretending to put star stickers on the card — just like Daddy does on his students’ papers.
Now she’s reading me The Night Before Christmas. Many phrases are coming out right. She even knows to make rhymes in the right places — accidentally saying “houses” she also said “mouses.”
“Hang all the stockings, and then turned with a jerk.”
Feb 5: Amy says, “You don’t treat me very well sometimes.” We’re learning the Golden Rule around here. First, apparently, one must learn to apply it to everyone but oneself. This evening she told Daddy the Golden Rule is “Treat other people the way I treat you.”
Jan 28: “I am the person who is here.”
Later, she was telling me what she did in her quiet / nap time. She said she had a baby bear (stuffed animal) and was singing “Everybody has a bookcase” to her.
Jan 22: Amy is taking her child, Daddy, to the pretend grocery store. She made her list, and they’re now going around filling her shopping bag.
And yesterday, Amy’s new joke: “Why did Johnny Cash throw the blanket? Because he wanted to see Amy fly and GET THAT BINK! Ah ha ha ha ha!”
Jan 17: Amy: “Not too heavy, not too light; the difference is drinkability.” And, at dinner, shaking her head back and forth, “Mama, you’re getting dizzy, because I’m waving you around.”
(The drinkability line came up again later when we were talking about train and railroad tracks, and how she was insisting they weren’t the same thing. We asked her what the difference was, and she said … “Drinkability!”)
Amy: “Teachers always poop.”
(Oh, and for some reason, when a ‘baby’ poops in its diaper, it’s always a boy. Sometimes I get the impression that anyone who wears a diaper is a boy.)
Grandpa on the phone: “How are you doing?”
Amy: “The garage door was frozen shut!”
Grandma on the phone: “What are you doing?”
Amy: “I’m walking around carrying the phone.”
Jan 16: Amy (hearing about how too much bacteria can make you sick): “And that’s why we don’t want to get bacteria in the beer!” (Continuing talk about the various meanings of “culture”) “A blanket is a culture of sucking!” (Thinking about her bedtime music) “Daddy, I’m afraid I don’t want the CD player to get in trouble.”
Jan 14: Me: “Did you see that deer, Amy?” Amy: “Yeah! It was running. We’re so proud of that deer — it didn’t hit the car!”
Jan 13: Amy: “I don’t want to play, because I want to pee!”
Jan 12: My child has twice connected cameras and toilets. Last night as she pooped, she said it sounded like her camera turning off. And just now as I was uploading a picture, she said the light on my camera looks like an automatic flusher.
Jan 11: Today I told Amy the jokes about Johnny throwing a stick of butter out the window (to see a butterfly) and doing the same with a watch (to see time fly), and she started telling her own version: “Why did Johnny Cash put a muffin outside? To see a moose come by! AH ha ha ha!” and several more in the same vein.
Forgot to mention how much fun it was to watch Amy play “Aunt Tracy” the other day. “Rit! rit! rit! MIIIIIIING!” “Say ‘me me me’ like Aunt Tracy does!”
Amy, thoughtfully, with hands behind her: “My bottom has two parts.”
Jan 10: The first non-paper thing Amy has cut with scissors was, thankfully, just a ribbon on her dress. And it was getting too small for her anyway.
Dec 18: Amy, in her Most Polite voice: “Leave me alone, please.”
Dec 6: I long for the day when there can be a bath, or a bedtime, or an instruction without a Mighty Fuss. I also long for the day when she understands AND complies with the difference between go-ahead-and-dawdle time and right-now-this-minute time. And when she’s slow and I say do it quickly, she does it faster instead of saying “I’m doing it quickly!” while maintaining the same pace.
Dec 5: Amy singing “How my bottom looks today”
Nov 30: Amy: “You take apart your pizza with your mouth. That’s called ‘eating.'” “Don’t put your foot on me. That MINDS me.”
Nov 29: Amy tonight: “She falls a lot when I drop her.” (About her doll.) “What does ‘Drinkability’ start with?” (We were sounding out beginning letters and spelling some words. Gotta start muting those commercials when the game’s on.)
Nov 21: Birthday girl is wiped — couldn’t eat her dinner, and is down for a second try at the nap. Not taking her to the dance concert the way she is right now.
She’s not napping now, either. But she’s contentedly playing.
Spaghetti just isn’t exciting when you’ve been waiting DAYS for cake and ice cream, and it’s right there on the counter, with the candles already in place. Especially when the spaghetti is hot, and blowing on it once doesn’t immediately make it perfectly edible. Despite having specifically requested spaghetti for the birthday meal.
The house is so quiet now we can all hear the cat snoring in the other room.
Mark, opening the door — “Are you feeling better?” Amy — “Yes, it’s a happy day!”
Poor thing — now she’s arguing she doesn’t want any cake and ice cream — probably because I said I would put a bowl of spaghetti next to it. I wonder what’ll happen next time spaghetti’s on the dinner menu! lol. I think we’re going to be okay.
The rest of the evening went off without a hitch. She had her cake and ice cream, and more, and we enjoyed the dance concert so very much, and then there was bed.
Nov 19: Amy “The water laughs when people dive into it. The water splashes, and that’s how it laughs. When we leave and go somewhere else, like the dining hall, the swim meet is sad and misses us. And then we come back, and we wipe its eyes, and then it’s happy again.”
Nov 16: Guess how many times it takes to explain, in a way that makes sense and is acceptable to the nearly-three mind, that the birthday is on Thursday but the party is on Saturday?
I think Amy called her happy face balloon a spirit the other day, because “it has no body.”
Nov 14: Amy is playing pin the tail on the donkey with some stickers.
Nov 13: Amy: “Mama, can you open this purse? It’s for you — eat it!”
Me: “No thank you, I’m full.”
Amy: “No, you’re NOT! You DO want to eat!”
Nov 12: Amy: “I don’t need butter on my butt!” / Picking up a book and pretending to read: “Here is a Payday…” (i.e., the candy)
Amy: this is a long dorito — a long skinny one with a reeseless end!
Amy: “The bowed psaltery dropped its blanket and picked it up again — that’s how you listen to the music.”
Nov 10: After driving me to tears earlier this evening, Amy came upstairs at bedtime saying, “I can’t do it, but I’m going to do it anyway.”
I’ve been trying to talk with her about her strong feelings and resistance when the time for one activity is up and it’s time for something else like bath, dinner, or cleaning up. That it’s okay to feel strongly about it, and even to say so, but that there are times when she needs to do what she’s asked even when she doesn’t want to. So proud.
We’ve tried warnings with Amy, and it actually seems to increase her anxiety. Or, she ignores them as long as it’s not actually time for the transition yet. She’s actually said several times “Just tell me when it’s bedtime / naptime / whatever” because she doesn’t like the advance warnings. At least not multiple ones. We usually just give one now — in a few minutes it will be time to X.
Nov 9: Amyisms today: “Daddy, you said ‘boo’ tiredly!” “You have two kinds of kitty food — one kind like a cake [that would be the canned stuff] and one kind like allspice [that would be the dry stuff]”
Nov 6: woke up to the sounds of Amy washing a towel in her bathroom.
Nov 1: Amy had no nap, today and was cheerful and bouncing off the walls energetic this evening. Cleaned up without a fuss, and bathtime fussies were fairly minimal. Hmmm.
Also, she got some Halloween cards from dear great-aunts, with two dollars in each. She chose to buy the colored Goldfish crackers — “the ridiculous kind!” she yells enthusiastically.
Oct 29: wonders if Amy will lose all of her toys before getting the message that uncooperation and fits at clean-up time are unwelcome behaviors. She keeps asking for the toys that have been taken away so far, and even talks about them having been taken away and why, but dare to suggest that clean up involves putting things where they belong and prepare for howls and “I can’t” and the like.
Oct 16: Amy: “Shit!”
Mark (between laughs): “Where did you learn that?”
Amy: “At BSF!”
Oct 5: Amy: “Is that the Ivory? Is that it? Is that right? What is that? Is that the Ivory? Is that it? Is that right? Is that the Ivory? I see the Ivory! Is that the Ivory? Is that right?”
And then when I finally speak with some annoyance, she (very briefly) clams up and asks in a smaller voice, “Are you still happy with me?”
Oct 4: Amy (playing with wooden blocks): “Those two girls are sad — they’re not Pastor Glenns anymore — they’re tired — they can sleep at Pastor Glenn’s church! What a wonderful Pastor Glenn they have!”
Oct 3: Amy, when taking away something she gave me: “You can’t cry, because you’re not upset.”
Later: “I’m a Dad! Mom, can you call me ‘Mark’?”
Saving the best for last:
Oct 1: Amy: “You make my upset better.”