Last week on the long drive to horse riding lessons, daughter sang, loudly and well, the same song. All the way there. After two hours with horses, we hopped back in the car for the ride back, and she launched back into the same song as if she'd never left it: Galump went the little green frog one day!... I asked her to read me her library book aloud, twice, instead.
So, last night, when we got into the car and began the same drive, the song popped back into her head: Hey, mom! Remember last week when I sang this song all the way there? Galump...
I realized we had no homework to do. No library book to read. I had not planned well. It was going to be two very long drives.
Me: Can you think of something different?
Daughter: Like what?
Me: Like anything?
Daughter: Oh, like "camel poop"?
Me: Yeah...
Daughter: Antelope poop? Caribou poop?
Me: Uh-huh. Okay.
Daughter: Bear poop, elephant poop...
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In the Event of Murder (Starlit Bookshop Mystery #2)
3 months ago
My daughters are the same way. The second one of them brings up the topic of poop, it's like a new world of conversational possibilities open. Not having boys I figured I'd be spared the love of poop talk. Right. Yet another mothering myth thrown right out the window!
ReplyDeleteCK: Thanks for posting! Yes. It's like a rich topic of conversation ripe (so to speak) for mining. Every time!
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