You're used to getting answers that don't make sense. For instance after asking, "Abby, where did you learn to dance like that?" you hear, "Because! I like to."
You've fallen victim to the kid-induced A.D.D. syndrome otherwise referred to as mommy brain. The most recent example of this was forgetting to unpack a cooler full of watermelon slices before putting it up in the 100+ degree attic. Just a public-service announcement to anyone considering doing this - Don't. Rancid watermelon does not smell like bubblegum.
You prefer the summertime when your kids wear sandals/flip flops because it's an in-your-face reminder to keep their toenails trimmed and pretty.
You know that "It spits the butter went up the water spout" actually means "The itsy, bitsy spider went up the water spout." And if it doesn't, it's still appropriate for your butter-loving toddler to change the words to meet her preferences.
Your independent toddler is not daunted by normal childhood impediments like being unable to open a string cheese by herself. That's right. She just gets the scissors. Yet another example of the "I do it!" phenomenon.
Your toddler was so proud of getting her shirt on all by herself you didn't have the heart to tell her it was backwards. So, in spite of your obsessive-compulsive tendencies, she slept like that all night. Kids are good for curing these types of issues.
Many, many months after your toddler started
catapulting herself over the side of the crib, rendering the function of
a crib completely useless, you finally made the switch to a toddler
bed, and much to your surprise, she handled it like a champ. Well, she
stayed up an extra hour due to uninhibited access to toys, puzzles, and
books, which she all carried back to her bed to play with. And she got
up an hour early, just because she could. But once she fell asleep her
little, chubby arm dangled over the edge in a way that made you just
want to eat her. You're calling it a success.
Usually your toddler calls popcorn "pop" and sometimes just "corn", and occasionally, it's a mashup of "porn". As in, "Mommy, I want porn.:" As a result, you try to avoid popcorn in public and keep laughing at her in the privacy of your own home.
You don't own your own derby car racetrack, but that doesn't stop your seven year old from making one out of the big pile of bricks and leftover wood in your backyard.
You love the dichotomy of your four year old in a dress on the playground with all boys, wielding a stick and not just a tiny bit of attitude.
When your four year old says, "Trust me", you find it incredibly hard to do so.
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