Scene: Wilson Farms, outside the pony enclosure, the other day. I am holding the Peanut in my arms as we watch the ponies.
Peanut, absentmindedly fingering my bra strap: Mommy bra.
Me: That's right, I have my bra on.
Peanut: No (Peanut's real name) bra.
Me: That's right, you're not wearing a bra.
Peanut, thinking for a minute: No pony bras, either.
Me: Um, right. The ponies are not wearing any bras.
(My 1.3 readers will, of course, recall that this was not my first bizarre conversation with the Peanut about bras.)
Scene: Our dining room, yesterday at lunchtime. The babysitter was feeding the Peanut her lunch and I was preparing to leave for a physical therapy appointment. What with picking up a kid who weighs almost 30 pounds, it's no wonder I'm having lower back issues...
Me: OK, so I'm off to the doctor.
Peanut, concerned: Mommy leaving?
Me: Well, I have to go -- remember mommy's back boo-boo? I need the doctor to help me to make it better.
Peanut: OK. Bye-bye, Mommy.
Later that evening, as we put the Peanut to bed...
Peanut: Mommy back boo-boo all gone now?
Me: Well, not exactly. Thanks for asking though!
Scene: My bedroom, the other morning as I was getting ready to leave for work and to take the Peanut to day care. The Peanut had been with me in the bathroom not long after I got out of the shower, and for some reason she took a liking to my Dove deodorant. She then carried it into the bedroom, where she had followed me to watch me getting dressed. She refused to let it go.
Me: OK, we really have to get ready to go now -- we have to leave the deodorant here.
Peanut: No! Hold dee-oh-tet-tet! Hold dee-oh-tet-tet!
Me: Well, the deodorant is, uh, getting sleepy. We need to put it down for a nap before we leave.
Peanut, giving it a hug and a kiss and laying it down on my bed: Night-night, dee-oh-tet-tet.