Sneaky

Ricardo's birthday is in one week, and I made the mistake of telling Savannah about it a whole 10 days before. She asks me every single day about it - the card we're going to get him, the cake I'm going to make, and she is offering her own brand of peer pressure on what the decorations will be. Purple writing, for sure - that much has been decided by her.

Today, as we lounged around the living room, she started talking about the cake again.

"Daddy, do you want a Batman cake or...or...or...a Dora cake?"

He wisely chose Batman. She turned to me in a fit of excitment..."Did you hear that, Mama? He wants a Batman!"

I went to the kitchen a few minutes later and Savannah shadowed me. I pulled two cake mixes out of the pantry and told Savannah to take them to Daddy and ask which one he wanted.

She's always glad to be assigned any kind of cake-related mission, so she ran in there and asked. A few seconds later she came back and announced, "He said he wants BOF!"

"What!?" I hollered to the living room. "You're supposed to just pick one!"

"I DID!" he said. "I told her which one I wanted, and then she shoved the other one at me and said, "'You want this one too?' And then ran in there and told you...."

"He does," she chimed back in. "He likes bof."

Don't even think about swiping him

Savannah and I had a little chat today about our trip to Missouri. She understands that we're going on a plane, but she still thinks that we're going to end up at Grandpa's house. It's too confusing to try to tell her otherwise.

"Mama", she said, "can Pooh Bear go on the plane wif me?"

"Of course," I told her. "He can ride with you."

"Oh my goodness! Grandpa and Grandma and Jamie will be SO EXCITED to see him!"

"Oh, I'm sure they will. You're gonna share Pooh Bear with them?"

She thought about that for half a second. "Um, Sure! Is Grandpa and Grandma and Jamie going to squeeze him really tight?"

"Yes, I think so."

Savannah (running over to Pooh Bear): Do you hear that, Boy? BOOOYYYY!!!!! You're going to Grandpa's house and they are going to be so excited to see you. (She paused) Boy!!! What? No! Don't be scared! They're not going to lose you! Boy, it's ok. Don't worry.

I think Pooh Bear was sufficiently relieved that you all aren't going to lose him.

You are...

.....3 years, 3 months, and 7 days old today. Not much of a milestone, as milestones go, but the thing that is getting me today? You're starting to lose that little baby way of talking.

But you still say "f" for "th". Funder. Fink. Firsty.

Sometimes you say "b" for "v". My favorite is bech-ta-bles.

You want to know if I like something that I'm eating, and you say, "Mama, is it taste?"

When you walk outside to a mild spring day, you exclaim with all of the drama and inflection you can muster, "It's a beautiful day!" You said that to Grandma on the phone the other day and she thought it was hilarious.

Pretty soon you'll be saying thunder and think and thirsty and vegetables and tasty. And so I'm a little sad.

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Because hospital food is just so good

When we went to visit Tara and Eli in the hospital, it was just the two of them in the room when we arrived. She laughed and said that she had kicked everybody out earlier so she could have some peace and quiet...and no wonder, because including Joey and EJ and all of the family, there had been 9 people in the room.

We didn't stay too long because Eli was getting ready to eat. We headed back down the "alligator" (elevator, for those of you not fluent in Savannish) and went to the cafeteria to look for Joey.

We spotted EJ right away. He was the only two year old in there that was running back and forth from his table to the Gatorade machine, looking longingly at the bright red and orange and blue drinks.

Lo and behold, there was a bag of chips and a container of onion rings on their table.

And suddenly, Savannah was just famished.

"Mama," she said, plaintively. "I'm soooooo hungry." All the while, she cast sideways glances at the bag of chips."

"Ok, honey," I said. "I have a sandwich and Cheerios for you in the car."

Her head shook vigorously. "No...not the car. I'm hungry right now in the hos-pit-al!"

I tried to control my giggles.

Joey's mom took pity on her and handed her an onion ring. She promptly proceeded to eat all the breading off and handed the stringy onion to me.

Maybe she just doesn't like it when I go sharp

There is a sort of gray area, I've found, between rudeness and cuteness, poor manners and respect.

Actually, it isn't that hard to discern - rather, it's just that sometimes some of the rudeness that comes out of Savannah's mouth is so funny.

And then once I make the mistake of laughing at her, she thinks it's ok to continue. So I let her. Until about the 56th time when it's not so cute anymore, and then I descend upon her with wrath and warnings, and she probably wonders what brought about the change of heart....

We like to sing. We're always humming or making up silly songs or singing tunes from Dora and Trebellina and Strawberry Shortcake.

But on occasion, when I would break out into song on my own, something about it apparently rubbed her the wrong way, because she would say, "Don't sing, don't sing!"

Which was cute and funny and I hahaha'd for the first couple dozen times it happened.

Then it gradually became less funny, and finally one day I just had it.

"Do NOT tell Mama she cannot sing. That is not nice. If you say that again...." And the dire consequences were laid out in no uncertain terms.

The next time I started to sing, I heard her say, "Mama, don't - " she broke off abruptly, and then changed her tune, her tone, her face. "Mama," she said, sweetness oozing out of her, "Go ahead. Go ahead and sing, Mama."

Why, thank you.

And then a couple of days ago, I could tell that "Don't sing, don't sing", was on the tip of her tongue, but she called to remembrance those consequences that surely awaited her, and she said instead, "Mama - enjoy your singing!"

Do you like your nose to be running or legs better?

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When you're 3, the only reason to bow down...

I read Savannah a Bible story every night before bed. Her attention span varies - a lot of that has to do with how exciting the illustration that accompanies the story is. So far her favorites are the picture of Samson rending the cords that the wily Delilah had bound him with...



...the picture of the fiery horse and carriage that took Elijah up to heaven...




...and the Golden Statue in Nebuchadnezzar's dream (she was so convinced this was the Statue of Liberty for the longest time).






Last night we read about Balaam and his talking donkey, which had this fine illustration next to it.




She took one look at it - Balaam prostrating himself before the fearsome angel of the Lord with terror and repentance.

"Mama," she said, "Is he....coloring?"

Guess she had something like this in mind...

But I still like Lemon Meringue and Angel Cake

2 seemingly unrelated things:

1. Savannah has a DVD, a gift from Uncle Jeremy, called Spring for Strawberry Shortcake.

2. Today was a terribly windy, dusty, ugly day.

Allow me to now show you how the two are related.

We were driving this afternoon, and Ricardo commented on the huge piles of dust that were blown up against the wall that encircles the subdivision.

"Wow, look at that," he said. "I can't believe how windy it was today."

"I know," I sighed. "I really hate this wind. I think this is why I no longer like spring....because of the horrible New Mexico wind." (Yes, I was complaining. Sorry. And to clarify, we get seriously awful winds every spring...and apparently they have started early this year).

From the backseat, Savannah pipes up. "What!? Mama, what you not yike anymore?"

Once again shocked that she was listening in, I laughed and said, "Spring, baby."

"Ohhhh....you not yike the Strawberry Shortcake anymore!" She nodded with complete understanding.

And that's how you get from a windy, ugly spring-ish day to Mama not liking Spring for Strawberry Shortcake.

I think she's sharper than I will ever hope to be.

Maybe it tastes like a donut

I am not a huge fan of co-sleeping with Savannah, but I have to admit there is something cozy and special about snuggling up with her for a nap.

Today we were in our bed in lazy Sunday afternoon fashion, with Savannah in between us, trying to take a little nap. She had already taken hers earlier that day so I knew she wasn't going to sleep, but she didn't want to be left out. So she burrowed in and closed her eyes, and automatically popped her right thumb into her mouth.

Yeah, we haven't made any headway in breaking her of that yet.

I gently tugged it out of her mouth, and her eyes snapped open as she tried to yank her hand away.

"Hey," I told her, "why don't you try your left thumb? Try your other one, k?"

She looked mighty dubious, but brought her left hand up to her mouth, awkwardly, as if she didn't quite know how to plug it in. She took a few tentative slurps, and then took it out and shook her head.

" I don't yike it," she announced.

"Why not?"

"It doesn't taste good."

Apparently her right hand is much better flavored then her left.

And I want fries, too

I can't begin to tell you how much coughing has been going on around here these last few weeks. I think we are slowly starting to pull out of it, but it was awful to look at Savannah as she coughed up a lung and then said in her most pitiful voice, "Mama...I can't stop coughing!"

On Sunday she was really bad, and she had a high fever, so we took her to the doctor. She bounced around the office while we waited for him to come in, and she and Pooh Bear took turns sitting up on the examination table and admiring each other. When the doctor came in, she sat very still as he listened to her lungs. When he poked the light into her ear, she said, "Oooooooohhhh...."

Apparently that really thrilled her.

But it also revealed that she had an ear infection, so he gave us a prescription and we were on our way. We stopped by Walgreens to get it filled and I told Ricardo to just go through the drive thru to drop it off.

As soon as we pulled up, she started hollering that she was sooooo hungry.

"Ok, honey...we'll eat when we get home, ok?" She kept on clamoring, but we ignored her as we fumbled for the prescription and answered questions from the pharmacist.

I promise, we do not go eat fast food very often. But the few times that we have must have made a big impression on her, because she knows what happens - or what is supposed to happen - at a drive thru window. The pharmacist was standing right by the window, tapping on her computer, and since the parents were ignoring her, Savannah took matters into her own hands and yelled up towards the window, "Hey, I like some chicken nuggets, please!"

Just like Mama

So here something that should make Jamie happy.

I was on the computer yesterday, not paying much attention to the goings-on around me, when I heard Savannah say in an excited voice, "Look, Mama! Look at me! See what I do!"

I looked. Lo and behold, she was walking towards me - on her toes, with them curled up underneath her feet and bearing all her weight.

She thought it was pretty cool. I laughed so hard and told her that Mama did that when she was her exact age.

And I have never shown her how to do it, which leads me to believe it is somehow genetic.

Incidentally, I can still do it, although with considerably less ease than when I was a 40 pounder. Just in case you were wondering.

More than

Mommy: I love you more than....a thousand pieces of cake.

Savannah: (looks at me with uncertainty) Oh..nice!

Mommy: I love you more than...two thousand cookies!

Savannah: Oh! Cookies.

Mommy: I love you more than mashed potatoes....

Savannah (starting to get the hang of it): I love you more than....my Dora cake !(said triumphantly)

Mommy: Awww....you do? That's so nice.

Savannah: Uh huh...and my Diego one too!

Mommy: Awww, so nice. Hmmm....let's see...I love you more than puzzles!

Savannah: Oh, yes, puzzles....do you want to do a puzzle now, Mommy? Yo-er case yetters?

She scrambles to get the yo-er case yetters and the game is over.

You got a fast car...I want a ticket to anywhere...

I am not sure when it started, her fascination with driving. I know that when she was 2, instead of climbing into her car seat, she would try to detour into the front seat to drive and would get so mad when we wouldn't let her.

This past December, we went to a place called Hoopz for Gideon's birthday party. It is one of those indoor play places with huge inflatable slides and jumpers, and climbing structures and slides. A veritable playland heaven for kids. But do you think that was the main attraction for Savannah?

Oh, no. After going down the slides about two times, she announced that she wanted to go back out to the main lobby area area where they have two of those arcade-style driving things with steering wheels and drivers seats. She made me sit in one and she sat in the other, happy as a clam, and drove until they called us for cake.

She recently resurrected an old purple teether that she used to use back in the day for....well, teething. It is a spongy old thing in the shape of a circle, and she has latched onto it as her "driver".

As in, "Mama, where is my driver? I need to go to the store..."

And then a frantic hunt throughout the house ensues as we search for the purple driver, and then when it is found, there is great rejoicing. And then she squeezes herself amongst the mound of pillows on my bed - this is her car. She situates Pooh Bear and whoever else is lucky enough to come along next to her, and she drives herself to the store. And she informs me that she is getting nutritious things, like blueberries, and spinach, and broccoli, and carrots. And a donut.

Jamie gave her a puzzle with uppercase and lowercase letters for her birthday, which she calls her "yo-ercase yetters puzzle". Of course it has two round "O"'s. Whenever we do the puzzle, she gives one O to me and keeps one for herself, and then says, "Let's drive!" And then we have to sit there for about 10 seconds and turn our respective steering wheels.

Oh be careful little ears...

I just cannot believe how much Savannah is comprehending these days. Ricardo and I can no longer talk about whatever we want to around her, because before we know it, a little baby voice joins our conversation and parrots back to us exactly what we have just been talking about. With a modicum of understanding, just enough to get things skewed.

So I was telling Ricardo yesterday that Ana had called and wanted to do a baby shower for Tara. She wanted me to call and ask Tara if she was ok with it, and so I did, and she was, but only if it was a very small ordeal. So I called Ana back and told her. And then apparently Ana didn't like the fact that Tara was only inviting like 3 people, so then Ana called Tara and told her she needed to invite more people. Tara said ok, fine, and then beefed up her list a little.

So I am relating all of this to Ricardo, who in reality probably didn't care about all of the silly girl drama, but listened anyway.

"So Ana was really pushing Tara to invite more people", I said. "She didn't think 3 or 4 people was enough for a baby shower, and so Tara is going to invite like 10 people, I think."

"Really?" said Ricardo.

And them the mini voice piped in.

"Uh...Uh....Uh....(her brain works way faster than her mouth and so she stutters a lot in her effort to keep up with it all) Ana pushed Tara? And she has to take a shower so she can be safe?"

After we wiped the tears of laughter from our eyes, during which Savannah eyed us dubiously, not having the slightest clue as to what was so funny, I hurried to set the record straight.

"No, no, no. Ana didn't PUSH Tara, baby. When somebody has a party for a new baby, like Tara's new baby, it's called a baby shower. And Ana wanted Tara to have lots of people! She DID NOT push her. "

Not sure where the safe part came in. I suppose she thought that Tara had to hide in the shower to get away from Ana who was doing all of this pushing.

This is how rumors get started, isn't it?

Banana

I panicked yesterday.

Savannah asked for a banana, much like she does every day. She said it in her peculiar little way, with the last 2 "a's" pronounced like short "o's", as if she originated from a European country.

And then the panic hit as I realized that I couldn't remember how she used to say it. It used to make us laugh so hard, and without me even realizing it, she stopped saying it like that one day. I asked Ricardo if he remembered. He didn't. Then - relief! - I remembered. She would bounce her tongue between her lips and say, "I want a lub-lub-lub-lub" (just try it...you'll see what I mean). We thought it was the cutest thing ever. And we didn't even realize when she stopped.

Such bittersweetness, this growing up business. How proud we are when she learns something new, when her pronunciations become clearer, when she comes up with something clever on her own. But each success and milestone means that she is leaving something behind, something so precious and fleeting that we probably won't even remember most of the things that brought us so much joy.

And so that is the reason for this new blog. Just a daily (ok, maybe just weekly) record of those things I don't want to forget. I will warn you of possible boredom - stats, sayings, pronunciations, things I think are cute. Things that would likely bore others that are not so in love with her to tears.

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She is into praying for our food lately. Ricardo will start, and she cuts in immediately with "I can do it, I can do it." And then she launches into something like this:

Dear Jesus, thank you for food, bless it to my bo-dy, thank you for daddy's work,and his church, and for Mommy's cake, and the red and green (the cheesecake squares I made for the Christmas Cookie Exchange, which she was so convinced was my birthday cake, and still gives thanks for to this day), for my eggies and blueberries....

And then Ricardo, whose own eggies are getting cold, cuts her off and says..."and thanks for the food, in Jesus Name, Amen!" And if she's not done yet, she continues on with the prayer even as she forks food into her mouth.

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We have been half-heartedly trying to break her of the thumb-sucking. I say half-heartedly because there are times when she is out of control crying from exhaustion, and I tell her, "Just suck your thumb and be quiet for awhile!" Nice, huh? But then other times, I will tell her that she's a big girl, that she's 3 now and that 3 year old's don't suck their thumb. And she will think about it, and take her thumb out.

But then at nighttime, on those evenings when we have just recently had the talk, she will say pleadingly, "Mama, I suck my fum?"

And I'll tell her, "No, baby. No more thumb."

"Please, mama! Please can I suck my fum?"

Oh, it kills me. Really it does. And so I tell her, "Ok, just a little bit. Not too much."

And with great satisfaction, she plugs it into her mouth, and all is right in her little world.