If any of you have met my daughter, you are aware at her propensity to chatter.... incessantly. Now, I'm pretty sure that this is common for most little girls, as I myself was quite the talker in my days (so I'm told... but they lack the proof to back it up). Common or not, I find myself utterly baffled as I listen to the steady stream of insanities that fly from her mouth like a verbal sprinkler. Every now and again something makes sense, but I definitely think she she talks just for the exercise.... and sadly, while we're in the car, she has a captive audience....
"Mom, who made bodies?"
"Like human bodies? God did."
"Did he use glue?"
"No, he used bone and muscles and veins."
"Yeah, but how does my foot stay on?"
"We weren't cut and pasted, he hooked all our parts together on the inside."
"But how did he glue them together?"
"There was no glue involved... skin wraps up our insides so that we don't spill out all over the place."
"Like a present." (her)
"Like a present." (me)
(a few seconds later)
"Did God make privates?"
"Yep, he made all of our parts."
"Ew. God's gross."
"Honey, it's not gross... if we didn't have privates, we wouldn't be able to go to the bathroom."
"And then we would fill up with poop!"
"Exactly... so God gave our poop an escape route through our privates."
(long pause)
"Did God put the holes in our privates?"
"Yes, Taylor."
"So they're supposed to have holes... it's not broken, right?"
"Right."
"So we don't need to put anything in it to fix it right?"
"NO!! Absolutely NOT!!"
"Not glue, right?"
"Taylor, please do NOT put glue in your privates... it's not broken, the holes are supposed to be there, and.... wait, did you use glue today at school?"
"Yep, we made people and glued them together!"
(Dear God, I sincerely hope she didn't make her art project anatomically correct... holes and all!)
At gymnastics, Taylor whacked her face clumsily off of the trampoline, leaving a large red splotch on her face. I informed her that she will probably have a black eye in the morning. This is where her brain took her....
"Mom, will you do my hair like Maleeyah's tomorrow?"
"No, honey, your hair won't do the same thing that Maleeyah's does."
"Why?"
"Because Maleeyah's hair is very curly and can make an afro... yours cant."
"Can you put it in all the little braids with beads on them?"
"Taylor, you are very, very white... your hair is incredibly slippery and straight. Your hair wouldn't hold the braids the way you're thinking."
"But you SAID tomorrow I would be black!"
"WHAT??"
"Remember? When I hit my eye at gymnastics???"
"Oh my gosh, Taylor, I said you would have a black eye, not that you would become a black person."
"So can I have braids?"
"No... and I'm definitely starting to get concerned about the bump you took to the head."
And then I tucked my African American, glued-together daughter into bed and she starts to crack up out of nowhere....
"What's so funny?"
"Oh, I was just thinking about how weird you are, Mommy!"
"Well, ok then. Thanks, I guess!"
"Mommy, do you think other mommies fart as much as you do?"
"Honey, I certainly hope not."
"Goodnight, stinky butt!"
"Goodnight, Booger Lynn."
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