Just in case you are under the delusion that girls are delicate little flowers (I mean, I’m sure many girl children are, but mine? Not so much):
Both these conversations took place Saturday, on our way to Target.
#1
Flora: Remember when we went to Erie?
Me: Yes.
Flora: Remember when we went to that huge amusement park?
Me (scoffing at Waldameer being referred to as “huge”): Yes.
Flora: And we went on that train ride?
(The ride was the kiddieland version of a pirate ship ride, big swoops. I couldn’t do it; my mom went on with the girls.)
Flora: That was the perfect ride for Kate. Because it was called Little Toot! Get it?
Me: Because Kate toots all the time?
(Kate, BTW, is finding this conversation hilarious, and giggling away.)
Flora, laughing: Yeah! We should call her Little Toot!
Me: What would we call Daddy? Big Toot?
Flora and Kate: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
Flora: And when Michael starts tooting, we’ll call him Tiny Toot!
++
#2
Me: What are you girls going to be for Halloween?
Kate, dreamily: I’m going to be a pretty, pretty butterfly.
Flora: I’m going to be a vampire! Or a skeleton. What’s scarier, a vampire or a skeleton?
Kate: Or a ghost?
Flora: What’s scarier? A vampire, a skeleton, a ghost, or a zombie?
Me: A zombie. Zombies are the scariest (Am I wrong?)
Kate: I’m going to be a zombie!
Flora: I’m still going to be a vampire.
