The bearded lady goes to bed

Each night at bedtime, my daughter and I practice the delicate art of separating and separate-ness:

Mama, can you come in my room, Mama?
No, Avie. It’s time for sleeping.
Mommy, are you close to me in the office?
Yes, lovey.
I’m working on the computer.
Are you playing my songs on that computer?
Yes, Ava.
What those songs called?
They’re called songs by Frederic Chopin.
WHAT you say?
I said, they are songs written by Frederic Chopin and played on a piano.
Is that a boy?
Shh...quiet. Rest your mind.
Is that a boy?
Is who a boy?
That piano songs boy.
Yes, Chopin was a boy.
Mommy, are you going downstairs?
Yes, in a minute.
Will you see my daddy there?
Yes, Avie.
Is he going to give you hugs?
Um, sure, maybe.
Is he going to give you kisses?
He might.
Mama, is he going to give you love?
[Awkward silence.] Well. Um, sure.
Is there cat puke on the stairs?
That was a long time ago. It’s cleaned up now.
Is that really disgusting?
Yes, Ava. Shhhhhh. Quiet, please.
Is Santa bringing me candy canes?
Are you going to make taco salad?
Will you drink wine and beer?
Mama, SNOTS! I have SNOTS!
Do you need a tissue?
Mama, can you be mad?
Can you make a skeleton face?
Can you be a dinosaur?
[Five minutes pass. Silence.]
Can you be a FRIENDLY dinosaur?
That’s enough. No more talking, please.
Mommy, SOCKS! I need SOCKS!
Mama, did I tell Daddy, “Don’t put water in my eye,” and then he put water in my eye?
And did I cry tears in my eyes?
OH, RATS! I have a beard!
I have a beard, I said! It's scratchy!
Mommy, mommy, talk to me if you have time!


Anonymous Anonymous said...

happy christmas

Monday, December 18, 2006 8:17:00 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

My life?
hydrocodone apap

Wednesday, December 27, 2006 12:00:00 AM  

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