Out of the Mouth of Babes

Happy Birthday to John! He’s very reluctantly turning 33. (Kicking and screaming is more like it.)

. . .

Recently, John said something was crap. Hannah’s response?

“Don’t say it; just do it.”

. . .

I got Hannah another puberty book about the differences between boys and girls, and she is *using it against me.* She brought it to me while I was working on the computer and forced me to read the paragraph on privacy and unwanted touching. She interpreted that to mean I must ask before hugging or kissing her. That means no more bedtime forehead smooches. And no more cheek nibbling. And no more squeezy hugs. Actually, I kind of see her point.

. . .

Hannah’s friend spent the night on Friday, so they pulled out the hide-a-bed to sleep on. True to form, Hannah has insisted on leaving the couch in bed-form. Last night she built a “cave” out of pillows and a thick comforter to sleep inside of. She was trying to figure out how she could get in since she had all the sides pretty well sealed. She liked my suggestion but couldn’t find a rope or a flashlight.

Me: “Did you set your anti-bear traps? This is bear country, you know.”

H: “Can you please be more grown-up?”

. . .

This morning Hannah was crawling into the cave while screeching and growling.

Me: “I hope you’re being eaten by a bear in that cave.”

H: “No, the bear is I!”

. . .

I wish I was wearing a hidden mic these days, because Hannah is always saying something bizarre, and I don’t always manage to write it down. Mostly she is being sarcastic and back-talking, which will probably delight my mother to no end, but we have been very careful to call her on it and tell her that she has one warning, and then there will be a specific punishment. She has gotten a little better about self-policing. And she is still a bad-language reminder.

Me: “You’ve just sliced off my ass with that sword!”

Hannah: “Don’t say the A-S-S word!”