She has a little toy piano that she plays around with sometimes. Last night she sang this country song she made up to E.G., then he got me and she sang the whole thing word-for-word again (he said), then I wrote it down (third time, same words).
Sung with much country-western emoting, a bit of a twang, and a sway:
I'm a cowgirl
I'm a cowboy
I weeaaar
Pointy boots
Do you knooww
What color?
Mine are pink!
Mine are red!
Mine are bluuuue!
Mine are pur-ple!
I live in a cottage
Around Texas
I have a horse...
Now let's just go hoooome...
The birth of a generational conflict: Our Sozobe is raising a little Republican.
(Big smile about the pink cowboy boots.)
I wish I could convey the soulfulness of the "pointy boots" line... :-D
Now to get her started on "Boot Scootin' Boogie!" Hah!
We (me 'n' sozlet) spent WAYY too much time on that site when it was first posted (forget who posted it). FUNNY!!
I just spent way too much time there myself.....
E.G. and sozlet are cooking dinner while I work. Good smells are emanating from the kitchen, including possibly bacon -- we never have bacon but got some recently, big hit with the kid. She loves it.
She came out and asked me to smell her wrist. I did, and smelled bacon, but couldn't tell if it was atmospheric. I squinted at her and she chirped, "It's bacon! I'm using it as perfume!"
(She's always trying to get me to let her use my perfume.)
(My perfume does NOT smell like bacon!!!)
(She'll be popular with puppydogs, anyway...)
Hehe aaah since I've been absent from A2K i have sorely missed the sozlet stories
Hey Bekaboo, long time no see! How've you been?
sozlet the pedant explaining, with a completely straight face, the "longest fart ever" that she'd just emitted:
OK, so imagine this is my butt. [draws circle in air] [i]Usually[/i], when I fart, it's something like this. [puts finger in about the middle of the circle, brings it down quickly while doing a classic raspberry with her lips] But [i]this[/i] time, [pauses pedantically], it was more like [i]this[/i] [puts finger in about the middle of the circle, drags it down very slowly and with a slight wiggle while raspberrying softly, pausing, taking another breath, and continuing the raspberrying for a good 30 seconds.]
hehehe
If you tell that story to her friends when she's 13 she'll never speak to you again.
Oooh, ammo!!
<rubbing hands together gleefully>
"If you don't _____, I'll tell your friends the fart story! I swear! I'll do it this time!"
To completely change tone:
Yesterday she asked me if I had any idea what my voice sounded like. I said no, not really -- I kind of remember what it was like when I last heard it, but it's probably changed since then. She said, with great feeling, "Well, it's beautiful." So sweet.
Sweet voice, sweet child, sweet mother.
:-)
Actually, the fact that I was worried about my voice makes this more interesting, as I'm quite sure I hadn't said anything about it. The latest issue of the New Yorker has a story featuring a girl with a hearing aid with an "ugly, nasal" voice -- had me wondering and worrying a bit, but just in my own head.
Maybe she started reading the New Yorker behind your back? I wouldn't put it past that little devil.
Right, maybe she's not just hiding The New Yorker at bedtime, she's secretly reading it to see what's so interesting!
