Growing Up and the Power of Three
For the last few months, whenever the kid came across something with three animals, especially if they were of different sizes, she’d immediately equate them with our family.
A picture of three penguins? “Daddy Penguin, Mommy Penguin, Baby Penguin!” she’d say.
Of course, whenever she mentioned the “baby” part, she’d also pat herself on the chest so that there’d be no confusion as to who the baby in our threesome was.
Alas, the kid is growing up. Yesterday, while wolfing down a piece of Jill’s bundt cake, (thanks for the pan, Tom and Karen!) I pointed at a toddler in a random newspaper ad and said, “Look, Lucy. A baby…just like you!”
Upon hearing this, the kid looked up from the scattered and soggy remnants of her bundt cake snack and with much indignation said, “No Daddy. *You not baby—TALL GIRL!” And with that declaration the kid patted herself on the chest for emphasis (and in the process smushed pieces of cake into the mug of the cat that adorned that day’s shirt choice.)
After cake, the kid started to sing and act out one of her favorite Richard Scarry cartoons. Trying to approximate a good father, I attempted to warble along with her song, thinking she’d be most appreciative of the vocal support.
Boy, was I mistaken. Immediately, her song and dance came to an abrupt halt. She then turned to me with a stern Dirty-Harryish look and said, “Daddy talk—no.”
I got the message and took my place (silently) next to Jill on the couch. Just as quickly, Dirty Harry disappeared and Lucy continued on with her song and dance.
*The kid refers to herself as “you.”