In Her Own Words

Every day with Allison Clare is full of conversation, whether she is having it with us, with passers-by, or with inanimate objects. The amusement makes up a bit for the extreme sleep deprivation. (Or maybe it's the sleep deprivation that makes me think it's funny . . .)

These conversations are rarely so noteworthy that I write them down individually, but I do wish that I were keeping better track of them because in the aggregate, the sense of her personality that they supply would complement some of the other scenes that are burned into my memory, such as my recent mortification in Walmart as she tried eating the groceries in the cart, tossed them overboard in an abundance of joy, followed up with hurling her own shoes out when the tossable groceries were removed (and then tried to eat the shoes when they were placed back on her feet). But I digress . . .

Right now she's working out the kinks in her understanding of possessive pronouns. She thinks "his" is "he's," which makes logical sense but also makes her sound like a little Frenchman: "Where's Daddy? I've got heeeeez hat."

Unfortunately, with this has also come her first expression of possessiveness--she used to be really good about sharing, even if other kids tried to grab toys away from her when playing. She'd just hand them over and go find something else. But lately, if Gillian tries to take something from her, or even to play with a toy AC isn't using, AC says, "No! Dat's my's."

And so, we are working on manners, both about possession and about being nice in general. She said to me the other day, "Mommy, stop it!" and I told her very soberly, "Allison Clare, you don't tell Mommy to stop it." So the next day, when I politely asked her to stop doing something please, she turned and said gently to me: "Mommy, you don't tell me to stop." Like she wanted to make the most of the teachable moment.

And when I denied a request for a snack before dinner, I was reminded kindly, "Mommy, be nice to me please."

We have our work cut out for us.

Here are a couple of other moments from the last few days:

AC, standing in the middle of the kitchen, perfectly straight and still, arms down at her side, looking ahead: "Mommy, look, I'm in the elevator."
Me: You are? Where are you going?
AC: I'm going to get some pizza. (Clearly the second-floor food court at the mall has made an impression.)

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AC, to the heating repair man: "Hey, man. Can you do me a favor?"
Heating repair man: "Sure, I'll do you a favor. What can I do for you?"
AC: "Could you get me an ice cream cone?"

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Me: Allison Clare, do you know what Christmas is?
AC: Hmm?
Me: Christmas is Jesus's birthday!
AC, without missing a beat: And we will have a cake, and God will put a candle on it and put the fire in it!