Pointing to an ant on the sidewalk: “I don’t want to step on him! That make him dead.” (That last bit spoken in a totally nonchalant tone, like, that would make him cranky, or, that would make him hungry.)
Shrieking as I pulled a book off Quinn: “She needs that! That make her a boat!” Me: “What kind of boat?” J (not missing a beat): “A kayak.”
Looking at a red and black checked jacket: “He’s wearing a ladybug coat!”
Showing off a dried date in her snack cup to a stranger at toddler time: “These are treats for pooping!”
At a gas station: “What we doing, Mom?” Me: “Dad’s putting some gas in the car.” J: “Just like Baby Kin. She has gas. And she do toes to nose!” (Referring to how we used to help newborn Quinn get her toots out.)
We were at a birthday party and a little boy, maybe 3 or 4, was being kind of a dick to his baby brother – just pulling toys away from him, repeatedly telling him he wasn’t allowed to play with anything. The baby wasn’t particularly bothered, but Junip was taken aback: “He’s not sharing, Mama. He’s not being really nice.” An hour later, at home, she was still bringing it up and I was telling her how proud I am that she’s so good at sharing with Quinn, and suddenly she gets this look like she’s about to cry. “Are you feeling sad?” I ask, thinking she somehow misinterpreted what I said, and she nods her head ‘yes,’ her little lip quivering. “Why?” J: “Because he doesn’t want to play with his brother.” My heart just stopped. Like, maybe she actually understands what an awful waste it is to not want to play with your sibling?
Playing with her baby dolls, who she’s named Potch and Pichu: “I think Potch wants some milk.” (Stuffs Potch up her shirt, then pulls him out) “No, he want cow’s milk. No, bear’s milk. No, elephant milk.”
As the chickens were wandering around the backyard: “No, you chickens! Stay away from our rhubarb!” (She has caught on that rhubarb can be used in pies, and is now quite protective of it.)
Upon hearing that Momo would be coming over to babysit: “How about, Momo brings a movie, and Quinn cries, and Momo give her a bottle, and we watch a movie?” (Someone has figured out the routine. Needless to say, Quinn is still not much fun to babysit.)
Noticing Drew work on the brick oven, full of envy: “Daddy’s building a big tower!”
I have to say, I really like this age. She is so full of imagination and sweet intentions – a good little helper and a sweet little buddy. I’m so proud of her.