Dear Laney,
The stuff that has come out of your mouth lately has been incredible.
On the drive to Cedar's birthday party yesterday, I handed you back a juice box. You like to put the straw in all by yourself, and you have a cup holder on your car seat, so it's usually a pretty turnkey situation. But yesterday, as I was pulling on the road to Hot Springs:
Laney: I can't get my straw in my juice box, dammit.
Mom: Surely I heard that wrong. What did you just say?
Laney: As if I'm hard of hearing I SAID: I. Can't. Get. My. Straw. In. My. Juice. Box. Damn. It.
Mom: Laney, that's not a very nice word to use, so let's try not to use it again.
Laney: Rolls eyes at Mom's cluelessness. I wasn't saying it about YOU, and I wasn't saying it about Hagen. I was saying it about my STRAW.
Mom: I can't believe this child is arguing with me about context.
A few days ago, we were driving to town, and your dad asked you what you wanted to do after school.:
Laney: How many times do I have to tell you...
Mom: Pull the car over so I can beat her.
This is why we're enjoying the phase Hagen's in, when the only noun at his disposal is "this!" Everything is "this." Certainly not, "This, dammit."
At least not yet.
Love,
Mom
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