Tuesday, February 26, 2013

On imaginative play and remembering the dead

Conversations with my daughter this week, from the Facebook Page:

We weren't able to find Addison's bunny for a few days. So I finally told her,
Me: Your bunny is on vacation. Visiting his family.  
Her: But...his family is dead.  
Me: It is? 
Her: Yes. They died three weeks ago. 
Me: Well . . . I guess he's just on vacation by himself. 
Addison (whispered): We are his family now. 
 It was either sweet or creepy. Or both. You may recall that Addison is pretty good at the creepy.
Addison: What is my nipple name? 
Me: ? 
Addison: My nipple name! You understand me?! 
Me: Your...middle name? 
Addison: That is what I said. 
Me: Sage. It's Sage.  
Addison (huffily): Thank you.

Addison climbed onto the couch, then over the back of it, and her Gramps asked her what she was doing.
Addison (a little breathless): Here's the deal. 
A pause to collect her thoughts. 
Addison: Wolves are coming. I need to hide in the curtains. 
I suppose hiding from wolves in a flimsy curtain is her version of the duck and cover drill for nuclear attack. Luck with that, kiddo.

Me: Who is my favorite little girl? 
My wife raises her hand. Addison crosses her arms belligerently, but then sees her mom raising her hand and shoots hers up in the air too. You can always count on her sense of competition.
Me: Oh, so you're both my little girls? 
Addison: Yes. 
Me: And who am I? 
Addison: Your name is Neal and you are a gentleman. 
 And you, little girl, will get a pony someday if you keep up this kind of talk.