isms

The thing that always gets me about parenthood is how unexpectedly FUNNY it is. Today (well, yesterday, since it's after midnight) I overheard the following exchange between my younger daughter, Jane (6), and her little friend Emma. They were playing a very complicated make-believe game involving princesses and babies and evil stepmothers and Emma was ready to quit.

Jane: Please, please? Please can we play a little more?

Emma: No, I don't want to play this game anymore.

Jane: Please? Just a little more?

Emma: No, Jane. I want to play something else.

Jane: But I want to know what happens!

And here's a wonderful Ana-ism from my older daughter Ana, who is 9.

She comes down for a last hug good-night. (I know she's stalling, but I will take it anyway, thank you.) She buries her little face my shirt, breathes in deeply and says, "Ooooh, you smell like Mommy."

This was already very wonderful but I couldn't resist asking, "Like Mommy, huh? What does 'mommy' smell like?"

Ana: Oh, you know, like coffee and Mommy and sweat.