Wednesday, August 29, 2012

The one where I compare Anna to Doogie Howser

I shouldn't be allowed to carry on with this blog anymore. One post every few months is annoying to all dedicated readers. (That being said, Facebook keeps informing me with a huge red arrow pointing down next to "your reach" on my Facebook page that I've lost all my dedicated readers by now.)

Alas. I shall write anyway.

I shall write despite the fact that I'm sitting on the floor and my toddler is standing on my thigh and using my hair for balance.

I shall write despite the fact that my baby is grunting and grousing in an attempt to let me know that she is unhappy and if she could move, she would be out of here. Stat.

I shall write despite the fact that I should be showering, getting the baby down for a nap, packing for our move that is just DAYS away, tidying the kitchen floor (damn you, last night's dinner of shredded cheese) or playing something with my kids instead of letting them watch Bubble Guppies. (I find it increasingly annoying that the Bubble Guppies R&B tune "Come on puppy say arf" is stuck in my head. Just saying.)

So anyway. Yesterday Anna told me she was standing in a square. I looked down and saw her pointing to the square tiles on our kitchen floor. Impressed, I asked her what shape the clock was.

"Round like a circle!" she exclaimed.

Now, I know I totally sound like a Mom here... but that's sort of impressive, isn't it?? She's only 2 and a half. I instantly started imagining that she would be some sort of Doogie Howser-like genius at school, telling me what a trapezoid was by the age of 4. Informing me that pi equals 3.14 blah blah blah by age 6.

Then she said, "Mommy, I see my shadow!"

"Oh yeah?" I smiled.

"My shadow wants a popsicle."

Which confirmed that she's smarter than I really know. She used her insane cuteness to get what she wanted, knowing I couldn't say no to her shadow. (I'm lucky her shadow didn't want a pony.)

So, yeah. Much like most Moms out there... I truly believe I have a genius child.

Of course, my genius child doesn't mind sitting in her own poop and refuses to use the potty. She also thought a picture of Jake Gyllenhaal was Daddy (maybe she really does know how to get that pony) and she likes to skip numbers 5 through 7 when counting to 10.

Yet to me, she's pretty darn perfect.

I may sit in my own poop, but that's cause I prefer it when you wipe my butt, woman. Who'd give up that sweet deal??