On the Facebook Page this week, I recorded several conversations with my daughter involving how delightful it is to try to feed her (also, see here, here and here), and one in which she seems to be channeling something from the spate of horror movies lately involving creepy kids (you guessed it, I've written about this stuff before, too). Here's one feeding excerpt, and one sleep-with-one-eye-open excerpt:
Addison: I don't yike peas. They are not yummy to me. They're green. I don't yike green.
Me: Then what DO you like?
Addison (listing on her fingers): I like pink, yellow, purple, and blue. I only want good ones. No broken ones.
Meanwhile, her cousin shovels everything placed in front of her into her mouth, kind of like that story of the Chinese brothers and the one who swallows the sea.
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Addison (screamed): Dad! I need help!
Me (rushing to her room): What? What?!
Addison (holding up her baby doll and a ribbon): I need to hang my baby.
I stare at her for a minute.
Me: What?
Addison: I need to hang my baby with this ribbon. So it swings.
Me: Why?
Addison: I want it to swing. Can you tie this around her neck?
Me: No. I can't. I'm sorry.
Addison: Please? I need to hang her.
I stare at her some more. I sigh.
Me: Can I tie the ribbon around her waist?
Addison (grudgingly): Okay. Just tie it around her waist.
I tie it around the baby doll's waist.
Addison: Thanks for hanging my baby, Daddy! Now I can swing it!
