Talk Talk Talking . . .

Tonight Margot was asked to go play quietly while Lindsay, our super-nanny, put Jane to bed.  A few minutes later, Margot appeared in the doorway and announced that she could not, in fact, play by herself.   The conversation went something like this:

Margot:  “Lindsay, I can’t play by myself.”
Lindsay:  “Why not?”
Margot:  “It’s just to much work making different voices and pretending to be different people.  I can only be, like, four people at once – but after a few minutes I'm tired of playing those people.  And . . .I can only make about two voices, so even if I pretend to be a ton of people, I know that I’m not, because I hear my voice every time.   Ugh.  It’s sooooo boring!”
[pause]
Margot (turning away):  “Okay, I’m going back to my room.”
Polly Pocket doll:  “Me, too!”
Margot:  “See??  Same voice as mine.  So frustrating.”

Query whether this indicates a weakening of the Chatterbox's talking-based superpower?

Sisterly Love

Margot's 6th Birthday

This morning's exchange:

Claire: "Margot, why do you talk all the time even when nobody is listening?"

Margot: "Because. I just like the way my voice sounds."

Only in Massachusetts

We're getting ready to drive to West Virginia for spring break in a couple of weeks, and today I asked Don whether he thought we should get the puppies groomed before we head out of town. Margot overheard me and exclaimed, "What??" in a totally startled voice. She followed up with an alarmed, "Mommy, what did you just say?" Baffled at her obvious shock, I said, "I just asked whether Daddy thought we should get the puppies groomed before we go to visit Nana and Papa." She immediately responded, "Wait! Ollie and Hugo are getting married??"

Bad Mother Incident #257

The other day I dropped Claire and Margot off at school a few minutes before the bell rang to signal the opening of the front doors. Normally go inside with them to their classrooms, but we've been working on independence skills -- we're trying to sometimes let them make the 60 second walk from the front door to their rooms without one of us in attendance. As I dropped them off, I said in my best enthusiastic mommy voice, "The bell is going to ring in a few minutes -- you need to go into school by yourselves like big girls today!"

Later that morning I received a voicemail from my friend Susan (who, being a better parent than I am), had not abandon her own kids at drop off but had stayed to escort them to their classes. She advised that Margot had absolutely refused to go into the building, and that Susan and another friend of our (also named Susan) had chased Margot around outside, pleading with her to go in - to no avail. The second Susan (who is also a more conscientious mother than I am) was particularly alarmed about the possibility of Margot leaving the school grounds altogether and meeting with some kind of foul play. For reasons known only to her, Margot finally agreed to enter the building, but only after the Susans had gone in first.

That afternoon, Margot and I had a conversation about this incident, and I indicated my displeasure with her conduct. She earnestly explained that the reason she would not go into school "with a grown-up" because she needed to go into school by herself.

Which, of course, was exactly what I had instructed her to do.

Margot on Pop Rocks

Margot (in sing-song, valley-girl voice): "Mom? I was eating those Pop Rocks? You know, that Grandma sent? And you know what happened? They electrocuted my mouth!"

That WOULD be Bad

Margot, being an incredible drama queen, was recently howling and sobbing over a lost toy. After 10 straight minutes of this, having lost my patience with her, I said, "Margot! Losing a toy is not something that should make you hysterical. There are many things that are worse than misplacing a Polly Pockets doll, so stop all this fussing and whining." The sobbing immediately ceased, and Margot commented in a somber voice, "Right, Mommy - like dying. Dying is the worst thing that could ever happen to anyone, isn't it?" As I pondered how to respond, the following dialogue ensued:

Claire: "Dying is not the worst thing that could happen to someone."
Margot (stares at Claire in shocked silence)
Margot (with disbelief): "What?! What's worse than dying?"
Claire (darkly): "Being born in HELL."

An Interesting Fact about the Vagina

Margot and Jane were in the bathtub when I heard Margot solemnly intone, in a sort of thoughtful-documentary-movie-narrator voice: "The vagina can hold more water than a university. " I looked over to see her carefully pouring water into an upside down baby doll that had -- for some totally incomprehensible reason -- a perfectly round hole smack in the middle of her nether-regions.

I immediately reported this strange statement to Don, who suggested that perhaps Margot was confusing "university" with "uterus." Putting aside the fact that I think a vagina would actually hold less water than a uterus, I conceded that he might be onto something. I returned to the bathroom and had the following conversation with Margot:

Me: "Hey, Margot. Do you remember the name of the body part where the baby lives when it is growing inside its mommy?"

Margot: "Uh-huh."

Me: "Well, what is it?"

Margot: "Um . . . museum?"