A Day of Laughs

Abigail is at an age now, where she makes me literally crack up every single day. Today was one of those days that by bed time, I thought, I HAVE to go write down the things she has said to me today. So here you go: A day in the life of Abigail. Each story will come with a bit of background.

We have been teaching Abi about privacy; letting people go potty all alone, get dressed, take showers, all of that with out an audience. I've also been trying to teach her, that she should not just strip down wherever she pleases. She has a tendency to be a poolside stripper. Anyway, now she insists that I close the door and give her some "pridacy" when she goes potty. As soon as I shut the door, she started singing a song she made up about privacy. I opened the door a few minutes later to check on her, and she looked appalled- "Mommy, I'm not all done with my pridacy!"

Last night, I closed the door to get dressed after a shower, and Charles tried to come in, Abigail intervened, arms out, guarding the door, and reprimanded him- telling him that Mommy needed Privacy.

Last week Abigail got bit by two ants on the way back from the pool. I don't know if she will ever fully recover. Today, for some weird reason we had an endless train of ants along the wall in our front room. Abigail saw them, her jaw dropped, eyes widened and brought her hand to her chest, then looked at me and said, "Poly cwap! Why are der ants in our house?!" I was so taken off guard that I burst into laughter so suddenly that I scared Abigail. I have been laughing about it all day picturing her expression in my head.

This morning after breakfast, I was trying to get her to get dressed. She took her jammies off and was just hanging out in her panties. I told her to go get dressed, and she, of course, asked why. I said, because you are naked, you need to get your clothes on. She looked at me like I was crazy and said, "I'm not naked Mommy, I'm not hiney naked." I guess naked is ok, hiney naked on the other hand...

Charles, in a stroke of genius one night, helped Abigail get all her wiggles out before bed, by using a little massager that we have. He did it on her feet, legs, arms, hands, and head. We call it our wiggle machine. It has become part of the nightly routine for bedtime. Sometimes it helps, sometimes it makes matters worse. Tonight, we forgot to do it, and just before we finished tucking her in, she gasped and said very seriously, with wide eyes,"Mommy! My wiggles are here. I need the wiggle dachine." I busted out laughing again, and she joined me for some good giggles. Then we got her wiggles out, and even sang a wiggle song, and she went to bed.

Days like this, I sit back and think- Life is good.