My wee monkey, little weasel, cutie pootie.
I just adore my kids, and think that everything they do is the best, the most adorable, the most clever. In fact, perhaps the greatest part of being a parent for me is watching my children figure out the world and get smarter and smarter. (Of course, I fear that they will band together and attempt to overthrow me as leader when they discover (any day now) that they are smarter than me....)
Lately I have been intrigued with Ella and her views on the world and her own circumstances. Several weeks ago, Ella had a little accident at home necessitating an urgent visit to the doctor. When we got there, the conversation went like this:
Dr.: "So, Ella. What happened here?"
E: "I pokeded a hole in my body."
Dr.: "You poked a hole in your body?"
E: "Yeah. I pokeded a hole in my body with the pitcher, and I bleeded so much. I bleeded right out of the band-aid! And it hurted."
The doctor was trying to keep a straight face, but couldn't stop the grin from emerging. Everyone she saw got treated to her assessment of the situation, and the fact that she 'poked a hole in her body'.
The 'hole' has since healed, although there is a scar. Every once in a while someone will see the purplish scar and ask what happened...
E: "I pokeded a hole in my body. But it healed up! My body made more skin to cover the hole, see?!"