Sam is six. Sam is in Kindergarten. Things Sam says:
Opposed to, as in, “Elliot, I’m opposed to do that, feeding the cats is my chore.” Frankly, I’m impressed, at least they’re fighting over chores.
“I need more stables.” Ah yes, staples, usually accompanying a tape and glitter glue project slightly out of control.
When I go to correct her, she declares, “Momma, I’m okay to say things like that, kids have to grow into words.” Deadpan and duh, mom.
She thinks, possibly, perhaps, maybe, definitely…whistles, looks up and around, that ‘ship’ is a bad word.
Recently, Sam burst into our bedroom and dramatically fell to the ground, in a display of discouraged resignation. Apparently she wanted to play, however big brother, Elliot, did not. Through breathy moans, “Momma, I don’t have anybody else.”
Love my girl.
Family meetings are Monday nights. This week, as we discussed our individual goals, Sam had some thoughts. “I want to work on getting better on my bike but when the world starts over and I am a boy, I’ll work on putting the seat down.”
You do that, little bug, you do that.