I was dumb for even thinking it. For some reason, since M. only used the word “why” occasionally, I thought we might miss out on the endless repetition of that word. Sadly, however, she’s come down with a bad case of the Whys. All of a sudden, she’s saying it roughly every 7.5 seconds. I blame those little monsters she shares her preschool classroom with. Who knows what other horrid habits she’s going to pick up from them. It’s enough to make me want to send her to public school!
<p style=”font-family:Helvetica Neue;”>She has said some other funny things, though. Last night I was trying to get a pull-up onto her before she and C. started rolling around on our bed (I have a hang-up about bare-assed kids being anywhere near my pillow). I told her, somewhat forcefully, to hold still so I could get it on. She extended her arms, hands up so her palms faced me, and said, “Chill out, Dad. Just chill out.” I had to pull her close to me so she couldn’t see me trying to keep from smiling and laughing. While I was hugging her, she started patting my back and said, “You’re my big, old boy, Dad. My big, old, sad boy.” This morning she was calling me her “Big, old chicken.” Where she got it from, I have no idea.</p>
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Now Playing: <strong>Hussel (feat. Afrikan Boy)</strong> from the album “Kala” by <a href=”http://www.google.com/search?q=%22M.I.A.%22″>M.I.A.</a>