Tiny Echo

Sarah is talking like crazy these days. In just the past couple weeks I've noticed she's gone from a lot of unintelligible gibberish mixed with words to more words and only a little gibberish (like her constant insistence that e = mc squared...crazy, right?) Today her words were my words. I am an OCD and kind of annoying.

This morning, when I spilled nearly the entire cup of Kate's Kids' Emergen-C down my front as I was attempting to fit it with its lid while a solid 10 minutes late for work I impressed myself by not dropping an F-bomb in front of the kids. Instead I went with "Pus!" to which Sarah replied "what happened?" I told her I'd spilled as I frenetically searched for a rag. She said "You spilled Kate's drink?" I said yes, it was Kate's. "Not my drink." she followed-up. "No, Sarah, not yours." She sighed. "Well good. You have to be careful, Mommy." she said.

This afternoon, after stripping off her shirt because "It got water on it" (code for - I am tired of wearing clothes now), Sarah stood, arms akimbo, staring at the kitchen floor. She found one of the ripped up old baby washcloths I now place in the dryer, doused with a few drops of lavender essential oil to make things smell all nice and crap. "This kitchen floor is disgusting!" she emoted. "I need to wash it. Now, don't come in here until it's dry, OK?" She proceeded to "mop" the floor.

And so it goes. I tell myself that while hearing my words parroted back at me with slightly irritating accuracy may be tough, at least the kitchen floor isn't so disgusting any more...