Red! Red! Red! Green! Blue!

It seems that sometime within the last month, my youngest daughter has really started talking up a storm. She actually answers when I call her (ok, not understandably, but it's a start.) She still gets super-pissed when I hold her and she wants down, and still screeches when she doesn't get her way, but she seems to actually be trying to communicate at other times. When we got her (and the rest) back from my mom, the first thing my mother told me is that she was saying, "Mommy."

"It figures," I told her. "I'm not there to hear it, so why not try to please you and say what you tell her to."

"No, really, watch: Daphne, say 'Mommy!'"

"Daddy!" says my youngest monster.

My mother gets this shocked look on her face. "But she was saying it when she saw you get out of the truck! Try again, Daphne, 'Mommy!'"

"Daddy! Daddy! Daddy!" says my cutest little BIT. Contrary little thing, isn't she? She must get it from her dad.

My oldest son pipes in, "Yeah, Mom, I heard her. She's been saying anything Grandma tells her to, even 'Mommy.' She calls Grandma 'Gambol.'"

My mom tries again to get her to say 'Mommy,' but to no avail. She seems a little frustrated by not getting her to talk for me. That child must have been and angel while she was there, because I'm not even suprised (that's just how this child is) while my mother is shocked to her toes! What would ever lead her to believe my child would follow directions? As if!

I tell her it's fine. "In fact, it's fabulous that she's independent! Whatever child, come here and give daddy kisses," I tell her. I really don't care what she calls me, as long as she doesn't start calling me bitch. Yet. That'll be saved for when she's 14.

My mom proudly tells me that she figured out that when she cries, Wa wa wa wa wa wa, she's frustrated and wants whatever someone's doing to her to stop! Genius, Mom! Now if you had let me go ahead and tell you that ahead of time, you wouldn't have had to figure it out, you'd have already known it! My mother thinks if I send a list of instructions with the kids, I'm really telling her she's not competent, when the list really means that I want to try to save her some time and frustration by letting her know the shit I've already figured out! Each kid is different, and likes different things, and they only have them a week at a time. If it were me, I'd want a goddamn list so that I could actually enjoy them, rather than spend the first five days finding out what the fuck they're saying, and the last two having fun! But that's just me, I guess. I must be odd. And too logical.

Yesterday, I rescue one of her favorite toys (that somehow ended up in the garage. I wonder who put it there, honey?) and replaced the batteries to make it work. My honey was cooking spaghetti with spaghetti sauce and shrimp alfredo, and I was trying to keep her occupied while it was cooking because she was hungry and has no patience yet. The toy itself is a veritable cornucopia of noises, with flashing lights and a "Spanish" option (and a 'loud' button, which may or may not have contributed to its banishment to the garage.) My parents got it for her last year for Christmas (Thanks Mom!) and it can get a little...annoying at times. "Red! Red! Red! Red! Red! Red!" Well, you get the picture.

It also sings the ABC's and after hearing Red! alternating with Blue! and Green!, I was ready for some variety. I spun the part that makes it sing the ABC's and my little rock star goes to town, singing her ABC's like she was in Kindergarten or something. She sounded a little "Dutchy," but I figured out something else - her voice is fucking deep! She doesn't have that high pitched, girly voice, like the rest of my kids, boys included, did as babies; instead, she has a husky, low voice! I'm not quite sure what happened, she screams in octaves high-pitched enough to shatter eardrums, but speaks with a pleasing, low-pitched voice. I'm reasonably sure she hasn't started smoking, so that can't be it. My voice is kind of low and husky, but voice tonalities aren't inherited, right? If that's the case, I hope to God she doesn't inherit my singing voice, because I'm tone-deaf. Oh shit! Maybe that's why she screeches! Well, fuck. Sorry, pumpkin. But on the bright side, you may be a kick-ass volleyball player!

Anyway, she's rockin' the ABC's, swaying back and forth, slurring the words. Actually, now that I think about it, she sounds kinda drunk. Maybe I should've checked her sippy cup! (By the way, if you are ever at your parents' house, looking for kool-aid, remember that they no longer have kids living in the house, and then you'll never assume that the kool-aid-looking-drink is kool-aid, when it might in fact actually be margarita mix! And who makes margarita mix with the tequila already in it and refridgerates it in a kool-aid jug! That is an after-school special just waiting to happen. What? I'm just saying!)

Red! Red! Red! Green! Green! Blue! A! B! C! D!... "Hey, honey, is supper ready yet?" I ask, innocently. He winces a little every time the toy goes off. Oh yeah, I know who put it in the garage, all right! He denies it, but it wasn't me, and the 4-year old doesn't know how to work the side door or garage door opener. (Yet.) "Here's her plate, and it's almost cooled off," he tells me.

And I take the toy and put it in her bedroom. She can play with it after I go to work. Let's see how long it takes before it "breaks" or gets "misplaced" in the garage again!