For Your Listening Pleasure: Reagan, an original Masterpiece

Bodily Functions

Reagan: "Mom!  Fergie just farted!"
Mom: "Great."
Reagan: "I didn't know puppies fart!"
Mom: "Everyone farts."
Reagan: "Do the fishies fart?"

HMMMMM.  Now that I don't know.  I have never seen little bubbles coming from the back end of the fish....

The Artist

I'm so impressed with Reagan's creativity.  She took some miscellaneous Styrofoam and made herself a suitable crown today! 

Sportin' a 'Tude

I have asked the little girl a full 15 times to clean her bedroom over the past three days.  She's not enthused at the prospect, and has tried everything in her power (distraction, pleading with puppy dog eyes and a cherry on top, changing the subject, feigning illness) to get out of the task.  My patience is waning, and so I'm getting more stern with each request. 

Mom: "Reagan.  Get in there and clean your bedroom."
Knowing that my tone means next step is severe reprimand... she's finally giving in.  But not without the last word.

Reagan: "When I'm a grown up, YOU have to listen to ME!!"

Deal.  I will listen to you just as well as you listen to me right now. 

Now GO.CLEAN.YOUR.ROOM.

How I love This girl

Reagan is wrapping Fergie up in her very own special green blanky, petting her head as they both lie by the fire, singing "Sweet Dreams!  Sweet Dreams!  Mommy wishes you sweet dreams!".  She's got a plastic cupcake in front of Fergie's mouth, pretending to feed her treats as she sings her a lullaby.  When a miscellaneous brother appears, she stops abruptly and shouts "GIRLS ONLY ON MY GREEN BLANKY". 

Oh, how she makes me smile.

Overheard from the kitchen

Reagan: "I'm going to marry you, Quinny."
Quinn: "You can't, I'm your brother."
Reagan: "Yes I can!  I'm going to marry you."
Colby: "You will have weird children.  Two-headed children, and I'm not even kidding about that."
Quinn: "Besides, you're too young to get married.  You have to have your parents permission if you're that young, and Mom won't give it to you."
Reagan: "Yes she will.  I will ask Mommy!"
Quinn: "And when you're married, you have to move out of the house."
Reagan: "Mommy will let me live here.'
Colby: "No she won't.  Not if you're married.  You will be kicked out of the house forever, and probably die from the cold."
Reagan: "Then I will just kiss you."
Quinn: "You're a mud-blood."
Reagan: "I'm not a MUD BLOOD!  A mud-blood will kiss your brain."

Mom (from the dining room): "You guys better not be making a mess in there!"  I'm fine with incestuous child brides, but if my kitchen gets messy.... WATCH OUT.

Thank Goodness for Little Girls

Thank goodness we didn't stop at two kids.  Reagan is my little kindred spirit.  It's the day after Thanksgiving, and I am itching to decorate for Christmas.  Quinn complained loudly that it's "only the day after Thanksgiving!  Why the rush?  It's too soon!'.  Colby just plain ran away.  Reagan, on the other hand, was jumping around, saying "I'm so essited!  I'm so essited!" 

I forced the boys under threat of grounding to help me bring up the Christmas decorations. They complained loudly the entire time and had to frequently be re-rounded up again to finish the job.   Reagan, though, was begging me to let her help.  "Now what, Mom?  Can I bring up more?  Now what?"

The boys disappeared somewhere out of eyeshot, while Reagan and I decorated the downstairs tree.    She oohed and aahed over every ornament, reminisced about when she made this one, tried to remember who had made that one.  And when it was time, I hoisted her up, and she put the angel on the very tip top.  Later that night, as the whole family watched "The Grinch Who Stole Christmas", Reagan pointed to the tree which was the only light in the room, and exclaimed  "Look Mom!  It's so beautiful!!"

Thank goodness there's a little girl who appreciates the beauty and magic of this season like her mother does!!

It's a two lollipop kind of day.

Forgive us,our dentist!

Me, too

"Mom, I had a dream I was swimming in laundry!"

Me, too, little girl.  Except mine is more of a nightmare.

The New Umbrella

Reagan had earned some moola from the Chassell Lion's Halloween Party for winning first prize in the costume contest.  It's been burning the proverbial hole in her pocket ever since.  She bought a book about a pony (big surprise), and then, after MUCH deliberation, decided to spend the remainder on a pink umbrella with Disney princesses on it.  She has slept with the thing and had it in her hot little hand since Sunday.  She wanted to take it to school yesterday, but mean mommy intervened.  It might not survive until the first rainstorm at this rate.  She is currently lying next to me in bed, with the umbrella open and protecting her head from the indoor weather.  She is about to take a shower, and... you guessed it... Reagan wants to take it in.

"It's meant for rain, Mom.  It can protect me from the water!"

The whole point of a shower is to get wet, child.  I don't want it to protect you from getting clean. 

Simple joys.

Overheard

Reagan, to Fergie, who was whimpering to go outside to pee.

Reagan: "NO!  You are not going outside.  They will KILL YOU! Do you hear me, Fergie?  They will KILL YOU!  You aren't going to get hurt.  I will chain you up."

Apparently, the lesson about outdoor safety during hunting season sunk in a little too well. 

Reagan was crying as she came in from outside.

Mom: What's wrong?
Reagan: The bird won't play with me!
Mom: A real bird?
Reagan: Yes!  It won't play with me!
Mom: You're not Snow White.
Reagan: What?
Mom: You're not Snow White.
Reagan:  WHAT?
Mom:  Birds don't play with little girls.
Reagan: But I'm not little!
Mom: Birds don't play with big girls either. 
Reagan:  No one wants to play with me.

BOO hoo.

Stats

For the record books, these are Reagan's official stats, as determined at her 5 year well-child visit:

Weight: 34 pounds (11th%)
Height: 42 inches (39th%)
BMI: 13.6 (5th%)

She's got 20/25 vision - but I don't think she was giving her best effort - and is otherwise healthy, wealthy and wise.   The nasal flu shot got a little ugly near the end of the visit, but nothing a mom really skilled at restraining children and a quick-handed nurse couldn't handle. 

Portrait of a Five Year Old Cowgirl Princess

 

 

 

From the Mouths of Babes...

Mornings getting ready for school and work are always hectic affairs.  There might be some ...ahem.... raised voices on occasion, when little people pay no regard whatsoever to the clock, despite repeated "reminders" from their parents.  There might be some screaming between siblings, some difficulty in keeping hands to self, some disregard in the personal hygiene required when presenting oneself in a public place such as an elementary school.   In exasperation today, during the hurricane that is our mornings, my husband lamented ....

"WHERE did all these children COME FROM???"

Reagan, in her calm, chirpy little voice (which had been whining and crying in response to some offense from her brothers not 15 seconds before) said sweetly  "Daddy, we come straight from Heaven."

OH.  Yes, yes you do.  It's so easy to forget sometimes, little people. 

Halloween Costumes

Reagan keeps talking about wanting to be "Poke" for Halloween.  "Not this Halloween, but the next tomorrow."  Quite frankly, I was at a loss as to who "Poke" was.  She described a brown dress and pink and purple feathers, and it finally occurred to me. 

"You mean Pocahantas??"

"YES!"  Silly, silly girl. 

Multi-Tasking

Reagan was washing apples for me, as I chopped and juiced them, while pasteurizing the by-product on the stove AND cooking dinner, all while listening to music.  I was getting behind on the chopping phase, and Reagan's washed apples were piling up, which did not make her happy.  I got side-tracked letting the  dog out the back door and noticed the messy bathroom, so started washing the sink and counter top and picking up the clothes and towels that had been thrown on the floor.  Reagan had had enough.

Reagan: "MOM!!  You do this and that and that and that!  So many things all at the same time!"
Mom: "That's called multi-tasking, Reagan."
Reagan: "Just stop working  all the time!  You need to STOP and play with me!!"

OH little girl.  Yes.  I do.  Because there are only so many years left where she'll WANT to play with her Mommy.

Name Change

I was baking an apple pie for my "Mom's Night Out" meeting tonight, when little girl began eyeing it.

Reagan: "Mom, why can't WE have pie, too?"
Mom: " I made you and Daddy and the boys an apple crisp for dessert!"
Reagan: "Mom, I want to go to Mom's Hide Out, too!  I want REAL pie!"

Mom's Hide Out.  That's a far more appropriate name.  But it sounds like my little hide out has been discovered - dang it!

Worship

Reagan was playing with figurines today. All her little ceramic people were bowing at the feet of my Christ figure. How sweet is that?

Reagan and Her Cousin

Uh Wait.... NO.

Reagan: "What are we going to do tomorrow?"
Mom: "We're going to the Henry Ford Museum with grandma and grandpa!  It's grandpa's favorite place on earth.  He's going to be in HEAVEN!!"
Reagan: "Oh.  So grandpa's going to die tomorrow??"

Let me rephrase that....

Soccer

First Day of Young 5's

Reagan brought home these papers from the first day of school.  She said the heart on the hand is because " It's a kissing hand, and I love you, Mom".   That's one big girl, growing up.  (sniff sniff)

 

 

The Most Wonderful Dream

Reagan woke up today in a half-sleep daze, and curled up in a little tangled bed-headed heap on my lap.  We rocked back and forth for a bit, and then she said the following:

Reagan: "Mom, they dance there.  It's so fun."
Mom: "Where do they dance?"
Reagan: "In Heaven!"
Mom: "They dance in Heaven?"
Reagan: "YES!"
Mom: "That does sound fun."
Reagan: "And he's making me a horsey room."
Mom: "What do you mean, horsey room?"
Reagan: "I love horses!  So he's decorating a room just for me!"
Mom: "Who's decorating a room for you?"
Reagan: "Jesus!  Up in Heaven!"
Mom: "Oh.  OK."
Reagan: "How many days are we here?"
Mom: "Where?  Here at our house?"
Reagan: "Yeah."
Mom: "Well, today we're going to Grandma's house for you to play, in a few hours."
Reagan: "NO!"
Mom: "You don't want to go to Grandma's house?"
Reagan: "Yes!  I mean, how long are we HERE, before we go to Heaven?"
Mom: "OH.  I don't know, Reagan.  Whenever God calls us home."
Reagan: "But will I hear Him?  I can't hear Him!"
Mom: "When it's time, you'll hear Him.  He'll say 'REAGAN!  It's TIME!  Come live with ME now!"
Reagan: "I want to go see my horsey room."
Mom: "When it's time, sweetie."
Reagan: "I miss grandma Fran up in Heaven."  (note: Grandma Fran died when Reagan was a year old.  There's no way she can remember her.)
Mom: "I miss her, too.  Do you remember her?"
Reagan: "Yeah.  We miss everyone up in Heaven.  But some day we'll see them again!"
Mom: "YES."
Reagan: "I dreamed I was dancing and playing with unicorns.  And picking beautiful flowers."
Mom: "That sounds like an amazing dream you had."
Reagan: "Well, one part was scary.  There was a dragon, and he was trying to eat me.  But the other part I liked.  With the unicorns and the flowers and the dancing."

I love peeking inside her little head.  It's such a beautiful place in there.

Lessons...

Reagan: "Mom, when I grow bigger, I need swim lessons, piano lessons, and tie lessons."
Mom: "Tie lessons?"
Reagan: "Yes.  I need lessons  to teach me tying my shoes!"

GOSH I wish there were such a thing.  The boys are nine, and it's been a struggle.

Undue Influence

A weekend alone with Daddy at the EAA Airventure 2013 has planted all kinds of seeds in little girl's head.  She announced this evening that, come November, she wants an airplane-themed birthday, with carrot cake.  CARROT CAKE just happens to be her Father's favorite cake flavor.  Gone is the "fairy princess" she's been talking about for.... I don't know, forever.  Her pink flowered bedroom now has a propeller on the wall, a toy airplane hanging from the ceiling, and a conspicuous name badge from the EAA above her bed. 

HMMMMM. 

My Point Exactly.

Mom: "Quinn! Colby! Reagan!  Come clean up the mess you made in this kitchen!  This is ridiculous!  There is ketchup everywhere.  I am doing you no favors by picking up after you all the time.  Mommy is no longer everyone's personal slave!!"

Reagan: "Well, then who IS going to be it now?"

UGH UGH UGH.  GRRRRRRRRR.

"Eaver"

Reagan's new favorite word?  "Eaver".  Like "beaver" without the "b".  She says it all.the.time.  I don't know what it means, but it starts the majority of her sentences these days...

"Eaver I like to eat oranges."
"Eaver I play soccer."

I think it's kind of a mix between "ever" and "even". 

Eaver.  Hmm.

Church

Reagan, on the way to church, was distraught.

Reagan: "Mom, church is so BORING to me!"
Mom: "Reagan, church is not boring...."
Reagan: "Yes it is!  It's SO BORING to me!"
Mom: "Well, if you understood what you were doing at church, I don't think you'd find it boring...."
Reagan: "Yes I would."
Mom: "Reagan, you're visiting Jesus!  You're worshipping Jesus with all the angels in Heaven during church!  Maybe you could look around the church, and find all the angels who are singing to Jesus with you when you're at church today!"
Reagan: "PHHHHHHBBBBT.  Still boring."

The girl did an actual full raspberry, spit-spraying and everything.  Holiness is a journey, my friends. 

Play Date

The kids had a play date, and these two little girls played HARD.  They were so cute!

 

 

DUH!

Mom:  "Aho children - you may play outside or you may clean your bedrooms.  Those are your only two choices at this moment."
Quinn, Colby, and Reagan: "WHAT?!?!"
Mom: "PLAY or CLEAN.  You choose."
Reagan: "Uhhhh, Mom.  That's not a choice.  DUH!"

Funny.  The boys hightailed outside in no time.  Reagan, on the other hand, cleaned her room. 

The Sleep-mover

Watching Reagan sleep is highly amusing.  She tosses, and turns.  She sits up, fully asleep, and then flops back down.  This is how we found her this morning, head at the bottom of the sleeping bag, legs crossed over her brother's neck...

 

No wonder the girl has a vicious case of bed head every morning!

On A Roll

Reagan's sense of humor is blossoming.  She is genuinely funny, in her little helium, 4-year-old-grammar voice.  Today, during a raging thunderstorm, I was playing the piano and singing at the top of my lungs.  Reagan was snacking on popcorn.

As I sang, she just looked at me, harrumphed, an said "MOM!  PLEASE!  I'm trying to EAT here!"

Peace and Quiet

Reagan spent the night with the grandparents last night, and Colby is at camp.  That meant that Quinn was an only child for the duration of an entire evening.  He LOVED IT.  After picking up Reagan, he said the following....

Quinn: "Can we leave Reagan at grandma's house a little longer?  I enjoyed the peace and quiet."
Mom: "It's about to get a whole lot louder in these parts, once your brother and sister come back home."
Quinn: "I know.  I just really liked being alone in the quiet."
Reagan: "Quinn, don't you WANT me anymore?????"

Poor little girl.  I want you.  I'll always want you.

More New Verbage

On the way in to Vacation Bible School recently...

Reagan: "Look, Mom!  A big mailbox!"
Mom: "Yes, there's a big mailbox in front of the church. "
Reagan: "Wow.  That's AWK-WARD."
Mom: "Why is a mailbox awkward?"
Reagan: "It's just so silly!"

New Verbage

Reagan: "Mom, I call GrandmVerne?"
Mom: "What are you going to say?"
Reagan: "I say 'Hi Ancestor.  I spend night at your house for two weeks?"

Tattle Tale

The kids were sitting in the back seat, having their usual bickering conversation....

Quinn: "God did not create the dinosaurs"
Reagan: "Yes He DID!"
Quinn: "Reagan, I wasn't talking to you.  See, this is what I get so sick of.  You butt into every conversation!"
Reagan: "MOM!!!!  QUINN CALLED ME A SICKUV!!!"

Mackinac Island Spudge

Brought home some souvenir fudge for the kids from Mackinac Island.  Reagan has been asking for a piece of "spudge" ever since.  When her brothers correct her, she gets very offended, and tells THEM that they're saying it wrong. 

Spudge.  Makes me smile.

BUGS

All of a sudden, as of June 7th, 2013.... we have an infestation.  The mosquitos hatched.  And BOY did they hatch this year.  Don't know if it was the long winter or what, but the mosquitos had lots and lots and lots of time to breed, and going outside is akin to an Alfred Hitchcock movie.  Between the over-abundant ticks, wasps and mosquitos, it's hard to truly enjoy the few beautiful spring days we get, because people... .it's a war zone out there.

My children accidentally left the car doors open after getting home from church today.  That means that when we got back IN to the car to go somewhere, it was bug-city. 

Reagan: "I don't like 'squitos!"
Mom: "ME NEITHER!"
Colby: "Mom, there's one on the ceiling right now.  See it?"
(SLAP)
Mom: "Now I don't"
Colby: "It left bug juice behind on the ceiling."
Mom: "I'd rather see bug juice than a mosquito."
Quinn: "Mom, why do you have to kill them?  They're afraid of you!  Just open your window and let them fly out."
Mom: "No.  They need to die."  (such a nurturing mother.  I know.)

Reagan: "Yeah, Quinn.  Wasps and 'squitos and ticks EAT OUR BRAINS."
Mom: "Well, not quite."
Reagan: "Wasps EAT us.  And I tell them 'wasp, you watch your tone young lady!"

hee hee hee.  She may have heard that phrase a time or two in her little life.

Silly Little Fairy

Needing A Little Space

Reagan (to her brothers):  "Get your OWN planet.  This one's MINE!"

Maw-wige

Reagan:  "Mom, Quinn doesn't like maw-wige 'cuz there's kisses in there".
Mom: "Quinn doesn't want to be married because of kissing?"
Reagan: "Yeah.  'Member a long time ago when you kissed Daddy?"
Mom: "Kissing's okay.  I kiss you.  I kiss Quinn.  You kiss people you love, and I love Daddy, too!"
Reagan: "Quinn doesn't like kisses."

hee hee hee.  We'll see if THAT stays true in another 8 years or so....

Church

Reagan: "Mom, church is boring.  I want to go to the toy room."
Mom: "Reagan, church is very important.  Jesus wants you to come visit him at church."
Reagan: "I will visit him in the toy room.  I was talk to him in heaven while I play with toys."
Mom: "Uh, no.  It's not the same."
Reagan: "I will ask him his phone number when I'm in the play room....."

Her Definitions...

Playing a game of Monopoly today with Quinn and Reagan....

Mom:  "Quinn, it's your turn slow poke."
Quinn: "Slow poke????"
Reagan: "Yeah, Quinn.  Mommy's right.  You're a slow poke!  Like, you know, a poke-y-pine!"
Mom: "Pokey like a porcupine?"
Reagan: "YEAH!"

OK.  Whatever.

She asked me to do it.....

Reagan: "Mom, I marry you when I grow up?'
Mom: "No, sweetie, you can't marry your mama."
Reagan: "WHY?"
Where to start.  Where to end.  Just...NO.
Reagan: "Mom, will you pick a marriage for me?"
Mom: "You want me to pick out someone for you to marry?"
Reagan: "Yes."
Mom: "OK.   I'll pick out someone for you to marry."
Reagan: "Well??  WHO?"
Mom: "I'll pick out someone who loves you with all his heart, and will be your friend forever."
Reagan: "What's his NAME?"
Mom: "I don't know."
Reagan: "Who is him?"
Mom: "I haven't met him yet."
Reagan: "Well, who I marry then?"
Mom: "We're not quite ready for you to get married just yet.  When you're grown up, I'll find someone really nice for you."
Reagan: "Ah-right."

Sisters and Kisses

Reagan, chin in her hand at the dinner table, looking at her brother across from her, eating his mac n cheese.....

"SOOOOOO, Quinn.  You like kisses, right?"

No response.

"QUINN!  I said.... sooooooo, you like kisses, right?"

Quinn, without looking up from his bowl grunts "no I don't".

"Yes, you do.  Because kisses DON'T SUCK.  Right Mom?"

Mom: "Right, Reagan."

"See, Quinn???  Kisses DON'T SUCK!!"

hee hee hee hee hee

Sharing

Reagan: "Mom, does my princess doll have a guardian angel?"
Mom: "I don't think so, sweetie.  Guardian angels protect people and nations - not dolls."
Reagan: "Does puppy have a guardian angel?"
Mom: "I'm not so sure about that, either, Reagan."
Reagan: "I'm going to share MY guardian angel with puppy and my dolly.  They can be 'tected with mine!"
Mom: "I think that's a wonderful idea, little girl."

One Tired Little Girl

Random Smiles

Every once in awhile, I actually check the pictures on my phone, and find little surprises that just make my day. 

Recycleable Art

While the boys were at basketball camp, Reagan and I had to hang out somewhere for two hours.  What to do, what to do.  We settled on the library, where we were originally planning on reading our way through our waiting game, but then we discovered that the library was hosting an art program to make sculptures out of recycled materials!  Reagan is a true artist, and LOVES to color, cut, glue, and create.  Problem solved.

 

 

Her work is now proudly displayed in the children's lit section.  She calls this piece "A Lake Hunter and Me."  Don't know what that means.  Who can decipher the brain of an artist???

 

The Things She Says

Reagan was putting a puzzle together yesterday, and was complaining that she couldn't find all the pieces with barf on them.

Mom: "Barf?"
Reagan: "Yes!  Where's all the barf?"
Mom: "Uh.... I don't think this puzzle has barf pieces."
Reagan: "Yes, it does.  Here on the trees!  That's BARF!"

Took me awhile to realize she was talking about bark.  Silly, silly girl.

On the Way To Church on A Sunday....

Reagan: "Mom, I don't want to go to church."
Mom: "Why not?"
Reagan: "It's too loud!"
Mom: "You mean the music is too loud?"
Reagan: "Yes! It's so loud,  I can't even fall asleep!"

Family Art

Reagan drew a fabulous family portrait tonight.  Beautiful job, little gal!

Future Career

16 hours straight in the van with Reagan made it clear what her future holds....
professional fillibuster-ist.

Yadda yadda yadda yadda yadda yadda
MAN, that girl can talk!

The Traveller

Reagan repeats every direction spoken by our GPS, to ensure that no one in the car misses an important direction. 

"DAD!  Turn right on 76!!  Right Mom?" 

Because Dad just loves to have THREE women (me, the GPS AND Reagan) telling him where to go.

---------------------------------------------
Most likely because preschool has introduced the concept of "Show and Tell" to Reagan, all hotels are now called "show-tells".  Which, here in Branson, is actually pretty accurate, as most of them really do have theaters in them.  Maybe she's on to something there.
----------------------------------------------

Reagan, who is in the habit of informing anyone who disputes me (read.... her BROTHERS or her FATHER) that I am always RIGHT and am a GENIUS, didn't fall for the trick her father laid for her.

Dad: "So Mom's smart?."
Reagan: "Right Dad.  Mom's a GENIUS."
Dad: "I suppose you think she's skinny, too."
Reagan: "No she's NOT!!!  Mom's not skinny!!  Her elbows are smooth, not bumpy.  Right Mom?"
Mom: "UHHHHH.  Yeah.  Thanks."
Dad: "Heh, heh, heh."

The Specialist

Reagan: "Mom, can I have a cookie?"
Mom: "No, we're having dinner first. Maybe afterwards."
Quinn: "Can I have a cookie?"
Mom: "Sure.  You can, but not Reagan, because you're special". 
Quinn: "Oh, good!"
Mom: "Quinn.... NO.   I'm kidding."
Reagan: "Mom!  I'm special!"
Mom: "Yes, Reagan.  You are special."
Reagan:  "I'm more special than Quinn.  I'm the specialist!"
Mom: "Yup.  The Specialist.  That you are."

Back Up Support

Reagan is my cheerleader, and a great "Mama".  When I am nagging speaking to her brothers, Reagan's got my back. 

Mom: "Boys, it's time for you to clean the basement."
Colby: "WHAT?  I'm not doing that!  You never said we had to clean the basement!"
Quinn: "NO!"
Mom: "It's on your chore chart.  You know that."
Reagan: "BOYS!  Mom is RIGHT.  She's a GENIUS!"

hee hee hee hee

I'm pretty sure the boys don't believe a word of it when Reagan calls me a genius, but I appreciate the back up, none-the-less.

Heaven

Planning our trip to Missouri for Spring Break, we found a root beer bottling company that has a restaurant.  It looks very cool, and I told Reagan that Quinn, our root beer junkie, would be in Heaven.

Reagan: "I want to go to Heaven!"
Monica: "Good!  I hope you DO go to Heaven!"
Reagan: "But not yet."
Monica: "Right, not yet."
Reagan:  "Mom, maybe not.  I don't want to go to Heaven.  I want to be with YOU!"

Uhhhh.... thanks??  And where will I be????

The Old Pro

Going to the dentist is no big deal now for the ol' pro. 

Marathon

My daughter, bless her ever-lovin' heart, is a wimp.  She fatigues EASILY.  The most common phrase out of her mouth is "I can't.  I'm TIIIIIRED."  This, I am well aware, is partly a cop-out, and partly because she really does have low muscle tone.  The limp rag-doll act is really on partially an act.  There's a good dose of drama queen in there, but... there is definitive hypotonia as well.  As a physical therapist - this is one thing I know.  So that's the background.
 
Today, Mom was in a funk.  Just in a "poor lonesome me" funk, and that's never any good for anyone, so I decided what I really needed was some time to myself to take a vigorous walk out in the sun.   Some fresh air and exercise would get those endorphins flowing again, so I suited up and got ready to go.

Reagan: "Mom, where are you going?"
Mom: "For a walk."
Reagan: "I want to go for a walk, too!!"
Mom: "No, sweetie.  This walk is for me only.  I'm going to walk far, and I'm going to walk fast, and you won't be able to keep up."
Reagan: "Yes, I will!  I can keep up!"
Mom: "Reagan, you have never in your life walked more than a block without asking to be carried.  I will not carry you, and I will not slow down.  You need to stay here."

But she was adamant, and looked up at me with those big eyes, and.... ok.  I gave her a shot. 

Mom: "If you get tired, you will sit on the side of the road until I come back to pick you up. "
Reagan: "I won't get tired Mom!  I promise!"

So, off we went, hand in hand.  After a block, at the normal location of the beginning of the whine-phase, Reagan said "My arm is a little tired, but my feet aren't Mom.  It's okay!"  We both slipped on the ice at one point and fell all the way to the ground, landing in the mud.  "I'm okay!  We're both okay!  Let's not walk on ice!"  At one point, I  almost slipped on the ice again, but because she was holding my hand, I was able to catch my balance.  "I saved your LIFE, Mom!"  Yes, yes you did.

That little girl walked a MILE, at my brisk walking pace, taking two steps for every one of my strides, and did not complain ONCE.  Her determination at keeping up with me, her very forced optimism about the icy road conditions, lifted my mood as much or more than the exercise did.  Once we were finally home again, she did admit that her legs were TIIIIIIRED, but it was a whine-free and fully appropriate declaration.  Would I have walked farther and longer if she hadn't been with me?  Definitely yes.  But that little girl can put a smile on my face better than anything, and SHE was exactly what I needed today.

Thanks, Little Miss!  Sure do love you.

Tight Rope Walking

I bought a new dress for Easter, and it arrived in the mail.  Decided to actually try it on today.  Reagan was profuse with the compliments.  Every middle-aged, overweight woman should have a 4 year old girl with them when trying on clothes.

"Mom!  What a beautiful princess dress!  You're GORGEOUS!    I love it!  When I get bigger, I want a dress like that too!  It's so pretty!"

Unfortunately, I have eyes, a mirror, and a passing acquaintance with reality.  There was no princess in the house, I can tell you that.   In an effor to achieve a "slimming effect", I tried the dress on with my highest of high-heels, the 4" platform pumps my sisters talked me into getting for Elle's wedding. 

Mom: "Well, I hope I can walk in these and not fall all over myself."
Reagan:  "It's easy Mom!  Just put your arms out like THIS when you walk!"

So, if any of you happen to see me wearing a purple dress, ridiculously high heels and walking around with my arms held straight out... you'll know why.  It really does work, by the way.  It was the only way I could make it from my bedroom to the living room mirror without killing myself.

Mommy Daughter Day

The men-folk are off galavanting in Wisconsin for the evening, to celebrate Dad's birthday.  That leaves Reagan and I at home to hold down the fort.   Our agenda is not nearly so exciting as theirs - we've done the dishes, mopped the floor, swept the den and living room, cleaned the bathrooms.  HHMMPH.  Reagan has asked 2,305 times where her brothers and Dad are, and each time I have told her the same answer.  They're in Wisconsin, and they will be back tomorrow.

"So, Daddy has two children with him."
"Yes".
"Mommy has one children with her."
"Yes."
"At least you still have one children."
"Yup.  Thank goodness for you, Reagan!"

She's feeling a bit abandoned, and when she phrases it like that, it makes me feel a bit abandoned, too!!  At least I have "one children" left, though.    PLUS - did she just do some math, there???

Burning a Hole in Her Pocket

Apparently, Grandma Laverne gave Reagan $.71 yesterday to put in her Hello Kitty Purse.  Reagan, purse jangling, came into my bedroom first thing this morning.

Reagan: "Quinn and Colby will steal my money, Mom."
Mom: "That's why you should put it in your piggy bank."
Reagan: "No!  It's in my purse!  I spend it!  We go grocery shopping?"
Mom: "Not today."
Reagan: "Can we go to Walmart?  PLEEEEEEEAAASSEE!"
Mom: "Not today."
Reagan: "Why?"
Mom: "There's a blizzard outside."
Reagan: "What kind?"
Mom: "The snowy kind."
Reagan: "What letter is the blizzard?"
Mom: "B"
Reagan (looking out the window): "There's no 'zzard!  It's white!"
Mom: "That's the blizzard.  A blizzard means blowing snow."
Reagan: "PLLLLLLLLLLLLEEEEEEEEEEEEEASE we go to Walmart?"
Mom: "No."

cue crushed child face
((sigh))

What She Says.....

Little girl had the pukes last night, so ended up in bed with mama, so I could keep a close eye on her.  She's feeling better this morning, and making me laugh.  Here's a few snippets:

Reagan: "Mom, no chipmunks are allowed in bed."
Mom: "Uhhh, yeah.  There aren't any."
Reagan: "And reindeer either.  No reindeer can be in Mommy's bed.  They're nice, but they need to be OUTSIDE."
Mom: "OK, then.  We'll make it a rule."
-------------------------------------------------------------
Mom - reading an article about Pope Benedict's resignation on the computer ---
Reagan: "Is that Grandpa Jim?"
Mom: "No, it's Pope Benedict."
Reagan: "Hmmm.  He looks like Santa to me."
------------------------------------------------------------------
Reagan: "Mom, no snoring came out of your nose."
Mom: "I didn't snore last night?"
Reagan: "NO!  Your nose was quiet!"
Mom: "Oh, good!  I'm glad!"
Reagan: "Snoring comes out of grandpa's nose.  He sleeps HARD."

Drama Queen

The Miss threw a heavy metal object at her brother's head tonight - seemingly in jest, but... HELLO! That's a dangerous deal! Quinn was crying hysterically, Colby was in hysterics himself screaming at his sister, and Mom and Dad, who were upstairs at the time, just knew that all Hell had broken loose in the basement. Reagan was duly punished, and the disapproval of her entire family was devestating to her. She flung herself onto her bed, and cried - loudly - for 45 minutes. At one point, about 20 minutes in, I asked her if she wanted to come to dinner.

Reagan: "(sob). I can't. I'm not done crying yet. (sob)"

Mom: "Okay. When you're done, come on in and eat with us."

Reagan: "WAAAAAIIIIILLLL."

5 minutes pass.

Mom: "Hey, Reagan. Wanna eat some dinner?"

Reagan: "I CAN'T! I'm not done crying yet! WAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH."

Mom: "Allright then. But dinner's getting cold."

Reagan: "(gutwrenching sob) You're just going to have to eat without me."

Mom: "OK. Come join us whenever you want."

Reagan: "I have to cry some more. WAAAAAHHHHH."

So funny, this drama queen. After her 45 minutes of wailing was up, I cuddled her in the rocking chair for a few minutes, and then she did join us in the kitchen, happy as a clam, as if nothing had happened. Silly, silly girl. Her brothers are certainly not nearly distraught about their parents' disapproval!

Guardian Angels

Oh, how little girl makes me smile.  She has mentioned several times lately how upset she is that she doesn't even know her guardian angel's name.  It truly bothers her.  If that angel is going to watch over her and protect her, then they really SHOULD be formally introduced.  I agree wholeheartedly, and told her I didn't know MY guardian angel's name either.  It really is an issue.



And somehow, I don't think making up a name is wholly appropriate either.   They'll just have to remain our anonymous benefactors for now.

Sunday Morning Cuteness

It's been awhile since our last installment of "Sunday Morning Cuteness", so thought we'd update.  She's all gussied up and ready for church!

When She Grows Up:

Reagan, when asked what she wants to be when she grows up, typically says one of three things: a unicorn, a dolphin, or a baby.  Sometimes she throws out the possibility of a mermaid, but... generally.. she's got her heart set on one of the other three.  Last night, though, when her Dad asked her if she was going to be doctor when she grew up (she'd been taking care of our elderly dog Morgan all day), she shook her head somberly and said  "NO, Dadd!  I'm going to be a co-pilot!"

He ate that up, believe me.

Lullabies

It's 8 am, and Little Miss just woke up.

Reagan: "MOM!  You sang me a lullaby last night, and then I fell asleep!"
Mom: "Yes, yes I did."  It surprised both of us, as she is a notorioiusly bad go-to-bedder. 
Reagan: "It worked!"
Mom: "Mmm-hmmm".
Reagan: "You sing me a looooooong lullaby next night?"
Mom: "Sure I will."

Reagan: "DAD!  Mom sing me a lullaby!"

Who knew that after all this struggling getting the girl to bed, all she needed was an off-key rendition of "Hush Little Baby".

Sweet girl.

The Good Son

Reagan has taken to referring to herself as our "Good Son".  She refuses to be called "daughter".  And when I ask the boys to do something, and they utterly ignore me (as is their habit)... Reagan is usually the only chid that responds and obeys.  It usually goes something like this:

"Quinn, Colby!  Time for dinner!  Come wash your hands, please!"

No response from the Dynamic Duo.

"Quinn!  Colby!  Wash your hands!"

No response.

"QUINN!  COLBY!  YOU'VE GOT 3 SECONDS TO GET UP HERE BEFORE YOU'RE GROUNDED!"

Reagan: "Mom, I've washed my hands!  I'm here!  I'm the good son!"

Yes, yes you are.

A Dress for Diane

Reagan has been begging me to make a dress for Aunt Diane. 

"A Princess dress.  A beautiful dress that's pink and purple and green.  She will love it!"

I wonder what a grown woman would think if I sewed her a "princess" dress that was pink and purple and green.  I think it would look something like this:



Or maybe this:


Reagan says "Diane will LOVE that".

In Desperate Want of a Hot Tub

Reagan climbed inside my Target Box, looked at me, and said "Mom, will you fill this up with hot water please?"