Tag Archives: children

Yellow!

At the kiddie gym, Nora is playing at the chalk board with another boy.

Nora (picks up yellow piece of chalk, shows it to boy): “It’s yellow!”

Boy’s Mom: “Oh my god, she knows her colors?! That’s amazing!”

Me: “Yeah I know it’s crazy.”

Boy’s Mom: “She’s a genius!”

Me: “Haha I like to think so!”

Nora: (picks up pink chalk): “It’s yellow!”

Nora: (picks up green chalk) “It’s yellow!”

Nora: (picks up blue chalk) “It’s yellow!”

Me: “Haha ok maybe she doesn’t know ALL the colors….”

Nora: (picks up bug off the floor) “It’s yellow!”

Me: “No no Nora that’s a bu—”

Nora: (eats bug)

Me: “Nora, no!”

Nora (mouth full of bug): “It’s yellow!”

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Boy’s Mom: <Picks up kid. Leaves.>

 

 

 

 

 

Very Dangerous

Nanny: “Nora has been doing something very dangerous.”
Me: “Oh no! What!?”
Nanny: “She puts things over her head. Everything. Towels, clothes, pillows.”
Me: “Oh really?”
Nanny: “Yes. She thinks it’s a game of peekaboo. But it’s very dangerous. I told her no, no, no.”
Me: “Ok good.”
Nanny: “It’s very important you stop this behavior when you see it.”
Me: “Oh, of course, I always do.”

One day earlier:

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Not Harvard-Bound

I’m in the elevator with Nora and a man gets in with his dog…

Nora: “It’s a doggie!”
Me: “Yes it is! What does the doggie say?”
Nora: “Woof woof!”
Man: “Wow, that’s pretty good!”
Me: “Yes, well. She’s Harvard-bound.”
Man: url
Me: “I’m totally kidding.”
Man (laughing): “Oh thank god! You never know around here.”
Me (laughing): “I know. But don’t worry, I’m not one of those crazy ‘My 1-year-old-is-going-to-Harvard moms!”
Man: “Phew!”

She’s going to Penn.

Hermoso

Almost every day, Nora and I go into the same corner store as part of our morning routine. Everyone knows us there. And every single time we go in, the guy working the deli counter smiles at Nora and says “Ah, hermoso!”

Now, I’m no Spanish expert (despite having taken Spanish in middle school, high school, and part of college…) but I’m pretty sure “hermoso” means beautiful for a boy, whereas if you were to call a girl beautiful, you would say “hermosa.”

So either the deli guy thinks Nora is a boy, and has thought this for 9 months now, or he is simply using the word “hermoso” as a gender-neutral term. Since my Spanish knowledge is spotty (#ivyleagueeducation imgres-2), I really couldn’t be sure.

So today we conducted an experiment. I put Nora in the girliest, most unmistakably feminine outfit she owns:

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We enter the store:

Deli Guy: “Ahhhh! Hermoso! Is very nice dress! Pretty butterflies!”

Me (relieved that he is obviously using ‘hermoso’ interchangeably, and has known all along Nora is a girl): “Aww gracias! That’s very nice!”

Deli Guy: “Ah de nada! You very welcome.”

(I smile and begin to walk towards dairy section)

Deli Guy: “But why he wear dress?”

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Totally Imperceptible

Me (to myself, in the mirror): “Ok, this [insert any unsightly skin imperfection– zit, wrinkle, mole, scar] is really bothering me, but I’m sure it’s one of those things that only I notice, and it’s totally imperceptible to everyone else.” (Vow not to focus on it. Convince self it’s not even there.)

10 minutes later, wake Nora up.

Nora: <Opens eyes. Immediately zooms in on skin imperfection with sniper-like focus. Lunges at it with two hands. Slaps it. Twists it between her little devil fingers. Tries to yank it off. Bites at it. Cackles maniacally.>

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Like My Toilet

Kid: “You smell like my toilet.”
Me: “Excuse me? That’s not a very nice thing to say.”
Kid: “But it’s true though!”
Me: “Do your math.”
 
One hour later, after I use his bathroom and notice he has the same hand lotion on his toilet that I use.
 
Me: “Wait! So did you mean I smell like that lotion you keep on your toilet?”
Kid: “Yeah. That’s what I said– you smell like my toilet.”
Me: “There’s a better way to say that.”
Kid: “Oh, sorry.”
(pause)
Kid: “You smell the SAME as my toilet.”
 
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I Think I Know My Own Kid

Nanny: “Nora should be holding her own bottle for her feedings.”

Me: “I KNOW. Believe me I’ve tried, but she just won’t do it.”

Nanny: “You just make her do it and she will do it.”

Me: “You think I haven’t tried ‘making’ her do it?! She won’t do it! Honestly, I don’t think she can yet. She’s not ready.”

Nanny: “She is ready.”

Me (annoyed): “Ok, I appreciate your input, but I think I know my own kid.”

One hour later:

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That cunning little minx.

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