I’m baaaaack! Tiny is talking up a firestorm these days. Her short sentences have turned into full fledge conversations. And these conversations are beyond hysterical! If you missed parts one and two, please do revisit these. And for your reading pleasure here are the final conversations with a toddler….perhaps when Tiny turns 3 this spring I will revisit this series with the “hallucinations of a three year old.”
Tiny: “I want to pray.”
Me: “Ok. Go for it.”
Tiny: “Father, son, mommy, daddy, gigi, papa, damian, muzi, grammy. Uhhhhh…”
Me: “That is a nice prayer.”
Tiny: “Yeah. All done godding now.”
Heh! “Godding.” That is a new one.
Me: “Hi Tiny, I missed you. I bet you had fun with Gigi and Papa.”
Tiny: “Yeah. Papa took his balls out!”
Tiny: “Papa cleaned his balls. Papa put his balls in the car. Papa have two balls. Papa balls are heavy.”
Tiny: “Papa go bowling tonight.”
Tiny: “Mama! Come now! I have lady odors. Wipe me!”
(Lady odors refers to diaper stink after using a diaper all night)
Me: “Ok. Here I come.”
Tiny: “Mama have lady odors?”
Me: “No baby. I’m ok.”
Tiny: “Daddy have stinky balls.”
I laughed so hard I peed.
Me: “Let’s go fix the chicken.”
Tiny disappears to the bathroom and remerges with bandaids.
Tiny: “Chicken has boo-boo. Here the bandaids.”
Me: “Oh geeze. What I meant was that it is time to get the chicken ready for dinner.”
Tiny: “I go get soap and wash his hands.”
I forget how literal children are!
Tiny and I wake up from a nap and my exposed breast captures her attention.
Tiny: “Hi milkie! You hanging out?”
Me: Chuckle, chuckle, chuckle
Tiny: “Put away mama. Milkie cold. I want warm milkie. Not too hot. Just warm.”
You got it! Thermostat set to a warm 82 degrees.
Tiny: “Smells like skunk. Skunk died.”
Me: “The skunk might not have died. He probably just sprayed around here.”
Tiny: “No mama. Skunk died. Someone came and picked him up.”
Me: “I guess that is possible but I really do not think he died.”
Tiny: “Stop talking mama. He died.”
Mmmmmm – ok Tiny!
Warning….the next two conversations involve, er, “adult themes.”
The setting – Rasta Daddy and I notice that Tiny is very engaged in a game of making soup so we sneak off undetected to see how much mommy-daddy time we can take advantage of. Well, mommy and daddy got a tad carried away and next thing you know we hear:
Tiny: “Mommy riding daddy horsey. Mommy go fast.”
Rasta Daddy: “Oh Sh*t!”
Me: I can’t speak. I am too mortified.
The next day…
Tiny (while giving me the evil eye): “No more play horsey with daddy. Just cuddle.”
Me: “No problem Tiny. Daddy and I will just cuddle.”
Tiny: “No – cuddle me. Daddy sleep by himself.”
And then, a few weeks later…
Tiny was pawing through Rasta Daddy’s nightstand. Now, what she discovered next is NOT something we have ever, ever, ever mentioned or discussed in her presence. Tiny is known for her uncanny ability to just “know stuff.” And here we go…
Tiny: “Do, do, do…a book, for my nose, flashlight, a fairy.”
Me: “Yep – all kinds of goodies in there huh baby.”
Tiny: “For daddy’s penis.”
Me: “Pardon me?”
Tiny, handing me a tube of um, er, lube: “For Daddy’s penis.”
Rasta Daddy: “Why did you tell her what that was for? Good lord Jennifer!”
Me: “She has NEVER seen this before and I certainly have never told her that it was for your penis. You have got to be kidding me.”
Rasta Daddy: “Great.”
Me: “Tiny, who told you what that was.”
Tiny just shrugged and put it back.
And that is all that Tiny has to say about that!