Y’all. My child. MY CHILD.
I’m about to get a little bit mushy before I tell you these funny stories because the thing is, I flipping love this kid. Every single day of my life, even the hard days when I think “I can not possibly make another peanut butter and honey sandwich today” I look at her and marvel in the fact that once upon a time she spent all day, every day fighting for her life and now she spends all day, every day exuding this immense personality that is so FULL of life that my heart can barely contain it.
Okay, just we’re clear on that, these are some of her recent antics in public, which are funny to read but a little bit mortifying to live.
I’ve been trying to teach Scarlette to say “Excuse me” to other people, only she doesn’t quite have all of the semantics of it down yet. She literally looked at every single person in the store yesterday, stuck her arms out and yelled “ESHUSHE ME!” as they passed by. Which made it seem not as though she were being a sweet little darling angel from heaven, but instead that she was just screaming at people to get the heckfire out of her way.
I’ve also been trying to teach her to say “Excuse me” instead of interrupting people. Her nursery teacher at church came up to me after service and told me that Scarlette walked up to her and said “Um eshushe me, I know you are holding dat cwying baby but I would weally wike for you to pway da bwocks wif me.”
So close, Scarlette. So close.
The other day I spent a good bit of time in a store needing help with something but the guy helping us didn’t actually work in that department so he was on the phone with his manager about it all and then chatting with us when he was on hold. Here is how it went down:
I was making conversation with the guy who was trying to help us, and turns out his name was Jeff. Scarlette heard him say “Hi, I’m Jeff” and responded politely by hollering “NO! YOU NAME NOT JEFF! YOU NOT MY DADDY! YOU! NOT! MY! DADDY!”
When he asked Scarlette was her name was she said “Oh, okay. My name name Sharwut. I was a tiny baby.”
Then an incredibly rude man kept trying to cut in front of us. He kept hovering all around the two of us, shuffling back and forth, leaning over my shoulder and trying to catch the employee’s attention. Scarlette finally looked at him, stuck her hand out and yelled “SHTOP! YOU HABBA SHAY ESHUSHE ME!”
Then she informed us all that her mommy was NOT wearing any panties. What she MEANT was that I was not wearing any Buzz Lightyear underwear, like her, and I know this because we had just had a long discussion that went “Mommy YOU not wear da Buzz Wightyear pannies? Onwy Sharwut wear da Buzz Wightyear pannies? My mommy not wear any da pannies?”
But everyone else in line, not being privvy to the prior conversation, just heard my child pipe up “MY MOMMY NOT WEAR ANY PANNIES!”
In a crazy turn of events, when the guy helping us went to type in our address, he looked up and said “Wait, do you live in X subdivision?” and when I answered yes, he said that he just moved in two doors down from us.
Which means this isn’t one of those awkward exchanges where I can take comfort in never seeing this guy again. I’m going to go have to take him a welcome to the neighborhood cookie platter.
Then, the other day I had a coupon for a free drink at Starbucks and when we got up to the counter Scarlette said “ESHUSHE ME, HI. I WOULD WIKE FIVE DONUTS PWEASE. DIS IS MY SISTERMOMMY.”
And so then I had to explain to the bewildered barista that I did not actually want any donuts and that also I was not a polygamist. I have no idea why my child has started referring to me as her sistermommy, y’all.
I know you think it can’t get any worse but OH IT CAN.
Recently a friend shared with me about a lecture that she had attended on keeping kids safe from sexual abuse. Then I read an article that reiterated a lot of what she said, and one of the main points was addressing the importance of teaching your children the correct terms for their body parts. So Jeff and I talked it over and decided it was time to have a chat with Scarlette about that sort of thing, as well teach her the proper names of her body parts.
So I set myself upon that task yesterday morning and I felt as though it went really well. I thought that she caught on quickly to the new terms and felt as though she had a pretty good understanding for a three year old about safe touches versus unsafe touches.
I’m really trying to be a good parent here.
I will give you ONE GUESS what my kid said to the cashier at Publix last night.