Emma (3) has a new love. Actually, she has four…but we’re focusing on John Man right now. They’ve been playing outside all day while I was cleaning the kitchen and mopping up our muddy floors. When it was time to come inside, I made them take off their shoes.

Emma couldn’t get her shoes off so John Heston offered to help.

Me: Oh wow! WHAT a super hero!
Emma: Oh yes! What a man like man-guy!

This morning we were all back to our normal selves for the first time, in what seems like a very long time. Zeb and I successfully got everyone ready for school, lunches packed and dressed. Today was my day to take Aubrey to school and Zeb was going to take Emma. This is a bit challenging because in case you didn’t know, Emma would go everywhere with me if she could…to the bathroom, to take a shower (she will stand outside of the tub but inside the shower curtain if I won’t let her get in and say “I just watch you Momma.”) to the grocery store. It really doesn’t matter, if I am going, Emma wants to go too.

Zeb: Emma, can I take you to school today? I haven’t taken you in a really long time!
Emma: No, it’s Momma’s turn.
Zeb: Please! I really miss you and you can ride in my truck.
Emma: I can wide you truck? (her t’s are more f’s-but I”m not going there) OK, Daddy! You can take me!

Five minutes later I walked out to my car to get Sadie and Aubrey loaded up and saw Emma and Zeb having a WWE Smackdown. Emma had her feet and hands braced on the outside of the truck and her back was all bowed up. Zeb had her body and was trying desperately to get her hands and feet loose to get her in the truck.

Me: What the???
Emma: DADDY SAID I COULD DRIBE HIS TRUCK (again with the f sound) AND NOW HIM WON’T LET ME!
Zeb: Emma, I SAID you could “RIDE IN MY TRUCK!” Not DRIVE it! What are you thinking?? You can’t even see over the steering wheel!
Emma: I don’t WANT you Daddy! I want my Mommy!

I took Emma to school, but rest assured I was driving and she was in the backseat.

Don’t forget I’m GIVING STUFF AWAY!

Yesterday while Emma and I were eating lunch alone, I asked my three-year-old, “Emma when you grow up, what are you going to be?”

Emma: A gwown up.

Me: *snickering* I know. But what do you want your job to be?

Emma: Oh. I don’t wike dat.

I believe I have the smartest and most literal three-year-old around.

I laid down to take a nap with Emma this afternoon while Baby Sadie dozed as well. It was cloudy, cold (Yanks- Read: AT least 40 degrees F.) and gray, and a wonderful day to snuggle up to my petite little girl and sleep. An hour later, I felt Emma stirring. I opened my eyes to see her chin propped up in her hands less than two inches from my face, her blond curls wild with static.

I blinked.

“Hey, Momma. What are we eatin’?”

Emma- in a nutshell.

Overheard while Aubrey and Emma were playing Barbies:
Emma: Get yoor stinkin breaf OUTTA MY PACE!

Apparently Aubrey hasn’t brushed yet.