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.

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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.
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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.