The mother enters the bedroom to tuck her children in for the night.  The four year old son is cozy on the top bunk, and the five year old daughter is in the process of getting cozy on the bottom bunk.

daughter:  Momma, tomorrow I'm going to be an elephant.

The mother gives a blank incomprehensible stare.

daughter:  Cuz I really like peanuts!!

*end scene*

"You know, Ephraim, I'm so lucky, I have a sister AND a brother."

"I KNOW, Zia."

"But, you're really really really lucky, cuz you have TWO SISTERS!"

"Keyzia, go upstairs and get yourself some socks please."

trudging slowly upstairs, "Why do I have to do everything myself?"

"Because you're four and you're a big girl now."

"Gee, when I'm five, I'm going to have to do EVERY-Everything."

Wow!  Finally a new header!  Artistically rendered by my darling daughter... isn't it lovely?

(Note the girl with the round thing on her belly... that's me!! with the new baby!!)

Oh, clear your cache or hit refresh to see the new pics and colours.

Keyzia, in her non-obtrusive inquisitive way, has asked a couple of times about how the baby is going to get OUT of my tummy.  She asked Ja once, and he totally and completely wussed out and gave her some kind of "it's a lot of hard work for momma" answer.  The wuss.

Yesterday I was sewing the last of the size small cloth diaper stash, and Keyz was colouring and chatting with me.  I was only half paying attention to her, we were talking about how the baby would be coming out soon*, and we would get to hold her.

Then she springs the question on me.  "How is the baby going to get out of your tummy, momma?"

So, not believing in lying to your kids unless it's about how chocolate will make their hair turn green, or about how the double stuffed oreos are all gone, even though I'm really just saving the entire last row to eat myself...  I told her that the baby would be coming out of my vagina.

Keyzia put down her crayon and looked at me in horror.  "Your VAGINA?"  she asked.

I told her that God would make my vagina get bigger (although not nearly big enough for squeezing heads out, thank you very much), and that I would have to work very hard to get the baby out.

My daughter, my beautiful chatty intelligent four year old was rendered quite speechless.  She stared at me for a few minutes while I patiently waited for more questions.  Then she just shook her head and furiously started colouring again.

Sorry, mom, I think that the great grandkid train might have to come from someone else.

*The most DREADED question is, of course, "How did the baby get IN your tummy?"  I think daddy will be answering that one.

I always wanted my kids to call me "momma" instead of "mommy".  No particular reason why, no hatred against the word mommy, it's just that I liked the softness of momma.  Ja didn't care, he was happy to be daddy, so we taught the kids momma instead of mommy.

This has worked well.  Most kids call their mother's mommy, which means that at a park, or the wading pool, hearing momma generally means me.  It's quite handy, really.

Until recently.

My daughter is rebelling against the system.

She's already really good at saying "Da-d-d-yyy" and rolling her eyes in just the way that all good daughters do with their silly fathers.  (My dad would be very familiar with this tone of voice... in fact, we still use it on him because he's, quite frankly, nuts.)

I always thought it was so sweet when Keyzia would call me Momma.  She'd curl up in my arms and say, "I love you, Momma."  Stroke my cheek, and lean in for kisses.  Just makes your heart melt.

But now.  Now.  SOMEONE taught her "Mom."  And she has to use it at the beginning and the ending of every sentence she says to me.

"Mom, I'm going outside.  Okay Mom?"

"Mom, can I have a drink, Mom?"

"Mom, I love you, Mom."

"Mom, Ephraim's hitting me, Mom!"

sigh.

I have to admit, I don't like it.  What happened to that little girl who says momma all the time? 

Now she says Momma when she really wants something.  The manipulation, it starts early, I tell ya.  Very early.

She must have learned that from her aunts.

Yesterday Ephraim was talking about how Ja's legs were fuzzy.  We were telling him how when he got big like Daddy, his legs and his face would get fuzzy too and he'd get to shave!

Keyzia said, "But not us, right Momma?"

me:  "Well, honey, our legs will get a bit fuzzy, and when you're older, much much older, you'll probably want to shave them."

Ja:  "You'll want to shave them until you get married, and then you'll stop!"

Ummm... hmmm...  The darned man had a big grin on his face when he said it!

Me:  Keyz, why do you call Lea mreow cat?

Keyzia:  'Cuz he mreows.

Me:  But why don't you call him Lea?  That's his name.

Keyzia:  (said with as much disgust as her four year old body could handle)  He doesn't LEE, Momma.

Keyzia:  Momma, I love you to the MOON and back!

Me:  You do?  Well I love you to the moon and back too!

Ephraim (not to be outdone):  MOMMA, I love you a bushel and a guk!

Me:  A guk?  What's a guk?

Ephraim:  Well.  I don't know.  I think it's like a popsicle stick.

Me:  I love you a bushel and guk too then!

I'm not sure if anyone noticed, but Keyzia turned four.  Along with all of the glory that goes with being four, there is also the yearly checkup at the doctor.

She's healthy!  Hard to tell, what with the rosy cheeks, and the happy face...  She's in the 70th percentile for weight AND height, so that's all good.  She's hit all her milestones with flying colours.

Ephraim didn't stop talking the whole time it was the poor girl's appointment. 

Dr. Boyd checked Keyz's ears.

Eph:  You can check my ears too, Dr. Boyd!

Dr. Boyd checked Keyz's bum.

Eph:  Do you want to look at my bum too, Dr. Boyd?

When the good doctor asked how Keyz's speech was (she told me before he came in that she was feeling "a little bit shy") (she hardly said a word the whole time), I also piped up that there was nothing wrong with Eph's speech either.  Dr. Boyd laughed and asked if we ever get to turn it off.

Eph:  We can turn off the TV, Dr. Boyd!

And then came the awful part.  The needle part.  The part where I have to pin my daughter down, knowing that they are going to stick her with something sharp that is going to hurt.  All in the name of keeping her from hurting.

(((((aside here:  I am not looking for a debate on why we chose to immunize our children.  Why some people don't.  I respect each parents' individual decision for their own children, and I do expect mine to be respected as well.)))))

We had prepped her for this a bit.  We don't believe in telling our kids that something won't hurt when it will, so we did tell her it was going to hurt.  She understood that the needle was to keep her from getting sick, and she also understood that she wouldn't need another one until she's old (like Tori).

It didn't help. 

She sat on my lap, looked at me while I held her arm as still as could be...  I kept telling her to say 'ow' and she kept it together pretty well.  Only crying at the very end.

It was the second needle that absolutely broke my heart.  It's a live vaccine, so it stings while it's being put it.  The poor little thing absolutely buried her head in my neck and screamed her broken heart out.

And yet, she held really really still.  My little trooper.

That's the suckiest part of being a parent, I think.  The part when you have to do things that are going to hurt your kids, if only to protect them.  I think that every time I have to do something like this, my heart cracks just a little bit more.