March 27: “I’m invisible! …………. Now I shaked off the invisible mud.”
“My name is Gladiator Girl and your name is Maggie Sansone.”
“I got two containers — a candy container and a throw-up container.”
She says she has a band. There’s Granola (or Vanilla) Jerry on fiddle, Blanket Craig on guitar, and Gladiator Girl on dulcimer.
April 2: (This one’s mine: A funny bunny had some money so she went and bought some honey. The honey wasn’t very runny, so she put it somewhere sunny.)
April 6: Amy has made peace with the idea that mom and dad are busy, and is happily occupying herself teaching a BSF class to her dollhouse dolls, seated in a circle around her.
April 10: Amy, not willing to eat her couscous and thereby forfeiting the last piece of chocolate, said, “When we have a GOOD dinner…”
The other day, she asked what was for dinner and I told her, and she said, “I wish we could have something SWEET.”
April 15: Amy: “I lost my temper!” (bends down, looks around, picks “something” up, and puts it on the bottom of her shoe.) “There!”
(Singing) “My orchestra is neat and tidy!”
April 16: It’s 9:56. Amy is singing in bed. Among other things: “My name’s MS. SHAINA!”
April 21: Amy: “I was telling a German bedtime story. The doctor said to stop taking off the covers, so they stopped, and the doctor was happy.”
Amy emerges from her room saying she needs to pee. Mark asks if her diaper is dry. She says no, it’s wet. He asks why. Her response? “I don’t want to tell you. I want it to be a secret.”
When Mark admonishes her to come out BEFORE she pees in the diaper, she nods agreeably and declares, “I’ll start doing that tomorrow.” (She said the same thing last night. We’ve been having a lot of those “I’ll remember — I’ll do that next time — I won’t do that anymore” type things. One step closer to understanding repentance, but miles to go.
I was trying to show Amy that bawling when it’s her dad’s turn to play is not very nice toward him — I asked her if she would like it if we said we didn’t want to play with her, and she said no, but then when I asked if she thought Daddy liked it when she said that to him, she thought and then changed her mind and said she WOULD like it.
(She also insists that she likes to be spit on.)
April 24: The song this morning: “My savior said I would play the belly drum. What’s a belly drum? It’s just a belly drum.” Today is also apparently Stick Day, which we celebrate for the conductors.
At some point she also clarified that she was talking about the number eight, not like ate your food. I don’t remember the original sentence, but how cool that she knew they were two different words.
April 28: Amy’s singing a mashup of Polly Wolly Doodle and Three Little Kittens.
May 1: Amy drew a picture of Grandma on a Mother’s Day card, and then got really frustrated and upset because it didn’t look like her.
May 3: The blue savior is a girl. She can hold you when you fall. ~Amy
May 5: After discussing the fact that the bedtime routine starts at 7:30, Amy says: thirty one thirty two thirty three thirty four thirty five thirty six thirty seven thirty. Get it?
May 6: Amy, when it was time to do “the washing machine” exercise in swim lessons: “I’m going to be a little unbalanced!”
And, later, in the locker room, telling me she heard “Another one wants to dust” on the radio with Daddy the other day.
May 7: Amy: There’s a thunderstorm in my throat.
May 10: Amy: Those cookies are for me, and those cookies… are going to be for me, too.
May 13: Yeesh, she’s STILL up. I should go in and tell her to stop yelling “humidifier” so that her grandparents and parents can sleep even if she doesn’t want to sleep yet.
May 18: Amy is playing with electric pizza.
May19: Amy to Mark: “You look pretty in your pajamas.” (Followed by a parental explanation of “pretty” vs. “handsome.”)
Another night, telling Mark he’s not welcome at the party: “This is a pretty party, not a handsome party.”