Bambina Bon Mots: Part 147

Yeah yeah. People who talk about their kids are boring. I know. I can barely sit through their stories myself.

So I'll make this brief! ;)

Bambina is almost 3 now, and although still working on really saying her letters properly (ie, "are you saying 'boon,' 'spoon," or '?une'?), she is talking in 10-12 word sentences (if you don't count the 30-word runons) about all manner of things I'm certain I was not aware of till approximately 6th grade. She knows Jackson Pollock from a painting in a book called "Olivia" which is about a little pig who wears her mommy out. She knows that gravity (whatever that is) makes it impossible for Pooh's honey to fall up into his mouth. I'm sure beyond a reasonable doubt that "gravity" was not in my lexicon at 3. Which is why sometimes I have to remind myself that she doesn't always get what I am saying:

Me: Should we get dressed before Babysitter arrives?
Bambina: No! No! No!
Me: Oh. I forgot you are in your "no phase" right now. Let me rephrase my question into a statement...
Bambina: I DO SO have a face!

When I talk to my mom on the phone I sometimes say "Hello Mummy!" as most Scots and English kids do. Yesterday when I said it on her voice mail, Bambina wondered where Grandma's bandages were. Thinking she was having some thoughts about my health situation I started asking probing questions, like "Why would Grandma have bandages on, sweet girl? You know that no one can catch mama's disease, right?" "Everybody is completely healthy, okay? Grandma is fine. Gram and Pop are fine. You are fine." Blah blah, seizing a "teachable moment" as all the books on raising-a-non-freaked-out, emotionally-secure-kid-when-you-have-a-chronic-illness/cancer books say to do. When she managed to get a word in edgewise she looked at me like I was a moron, then laughed and said, "You called Grandma a 'mummy'!! That's silly!"
(The books, I probably don't need to point out, don't address the issue of making classic rookie parent mistakes in misidentifying 'teachable moments...')

And finally, because I can only fake a smile through two stories of "and then he pooped in his pants! It was so cuuuute!" before I pretend I have to go to the bathroom myself to escape, I'll end on this one, which is less funny and just kind of cool:

We were talking about moving to Boston so I can go to my special doctor who will give me special medicine (that might make me feel yucky for a little while) but so I can get better and never wear a mask again--yippee! She amazes me with her ability (like most kids?) to just roll with whatever is going on--be it vacations, trips or doctor visits--provided she's been given a heads-up, assurances that swings and slides will be available at our destination, and that if airline travel is involved she can bring her wheelie suitcase and eat chocolate on the plane. Those three demands being met, she's a happy chappy. We talked about moving to Boston and how she was helping me to pack her room so we could unpack it at G&P's while looking for a new house that she'd help pick. She was delighted that she'd get to pick her new house and new room. And then she said, "and then this house be someone else's new house." I thought that was such a cool observation to have made at 3-ish years old without prompting. She completely got the feng shui of the whole deal that I affirmed as: "Yes, our old stuff will be new to someone else. Someone else's old stuff will be new to us." She answered, "Me like that."

Me like that too.