So, I'm pretty sure that Maria is having a midlife crisis...or mid-preschool crisis as it were. It seems like the last couple weeks, whenever we talk to her about something exciting that's going to happen, she's running down all the possible ways it could go wrong. This morning I said "why are you so worried all the time. just enjoy life, like the rest of us. you're going to give yourself an ulcer" To which she began asking "what's an ulcer? why i gonna have one? I don't want to have an ulcer..." (good one, Renee!)
Me: If we get enough snow, we can go out and sled down the hill! :D
Maria: But Mommy, we don't have enough "slides". And there's not enough snow. I don't want to fall out of the slide. It's too cold so my hands will get cold. I can't find my gloves or my hood. Where you put my snow pants?
Me: Do you guys want to go see Santa!?! :D
Sophia: YAAAAHHH! I wanna see santa and his beard! (said more like bird) lol
Maria: OK. But how we gonna get there? He can't talk because his beard is on his face. You tell him he have to wear pants* and his hat...and his coat. But he can't have a beard because then he can't talk.
Where, oh where, did my innocent child go. Over night, she's turned into a 45 yr old man who needs Cymbalta.**
*This is because my little prude did not take too kindly to the Rockets, during the Thanksgiving day parade, only wearing "santa's shirt, but not his pants and I don't want to see their knees". yah...I suppose that one could have been Example C.
**Don't worry, I would never put my child on drugs. :D