oh, children. {Rosalie edition}



Normally, these posts feature all three of my girls, since they all say and do funny, silly things. But just this once, I thought I'd do one only about Rosalie. It's not that she's funnier than Emma or Annabelle, it's just that she's three-almost-four. And that, in case you didn't know, is a rather hilarious age. The things this girl says... oh lordy. She not only keeps me on my toes and drives me to distraction, she also keeps me laughing. I love her little voice throughout my day, and would bottle up all the fun things about this age and keep them forever, if I could. So, here is just a small taste of our Rosalie-roo and the funny she brings into our life.

The girls and I are making no-bake chocolate oatmeal cookies, and of course the most important part of making any kind of dessert together is the licking of the bowl and spoon at the end. Rosalie grabs the wooden spoon and licks off as much chocolate as she can. As she hands the spoon to one of her sisters, she rolls her eyes in ecstasy, clasps her hands in front of her, and sighs dramatically. "Oh, clock-ett (how she says "chocolate"), you are the best and I love you. Will you please marry me?"

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I'm helping Emma study for a history test, asking her questions to see how much she knows. Rosalie is nearby, having made herself comfortable in a laundry basket (yes, really), listening in to our conversation. Here's how it went.
Me: So, Emma, who founded the city of Detroit?
Emma: Ummm... you mean, like, which type of people, or someone specific?
Me: You know, was it the English, or the French, or the Indians, or...?
Rosalie: ....or the zombies, or the ghosteses (her plural for "ghosts"), or maybe pumpkins. No, no, not pumpkins. They're not really scary.

I'm not quite sure what she thinks Detroit is..... but her idea of history is quite intriguing, you must admit.

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She comes to me, crying. "What's wrong, baby?" I ask.
Through her tears she tells me, "I hurt!" When I ask her specifically where, she says "I think my heart hurts."
"Oh dear," I say, "that sounds serious! Why does it hurt?"
"Well, I might need to go poop."

I'm guessing she meant her stomach. Let's hope so.

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Rosalie is always coming to me and saying things that start with "when I get bigger..." or "when I grow up...". What follows is always sure to be very specific and usually entertaining. Here's just a few:
"....I'm going to wear high heels, like the black kind, and I will walk and it will make the clicking sound."
"...I will wear perfume and smell really good, like a mommy."
"...I'm going to be a fairy. Maybe a garden fairy like Rosetta. And I will dye my hair red."
"...I will ride a horse. Like, a really big one. It will go fast, and I won't even fall off."
"...I'll wear lip gloss whenever I want to, and I won't even need to ask." (the girl looooves her lip gloss.)
"...I'm going to be a princess. And I will have long hair, and always do it in a braid. Because princesses have long hair. Except... when Rapunzel's turned brown. But mine's not brown."
"...I will write letters and use a lot of stamps."
"...I want to grow flowers. And then I will paint them." (I'm thinking this has more to do with wanting to be a garden fairy than an aspiring artist. ha.)

I wish I could remember more of them... almost every day she has a new "when I get bigger" to add to her list. These aren't even the best ones!

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Rosalie likes to sing. In fact, she sings a lot. All day long, little snippets of songs, sometimes whole renditions with their own unique Rosalie twist. One of my personal favorites happened in the van one day on the way home from somewhere. I listened as she sang a very spot-on version of Jingle Bells (and no, this wasn't around Christmas-time), and then couldn't help but burst out laughing at her grand finish:
"....oh what fun it is to ride, in a one-horse open sleigh, CHICKEN NUGGETS!!!!!"

Every once in a while I throw that on the end of a song, just for fun. Try it sometime.

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One day, after we had finished reading our Bible story: "Um, I want to give God a hug. Can I?"

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Rosalie begged for raisins in her oatmeal one morning, since Emma had some. Then she decided after a few bites that no, she didn't like them after all. After proclaiming that they were simply "in her way", she grabbed a nearby piece of paper and pencil and passionately declared "I am going to write in letters that YOU MUST NOT EAT RAISINS!"

So there you have it. It has been declared and written, Rosalie has spoken. Raisins are an awful, evil thing and have now been forbidden.

(she actually really likes raisins and will happily eat a box of them. But apparently when joined with oatmeal, they become horrid and despised. I don't know.)

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Once when we were sitting on the couch I reached over and pinched her nose, just to mess with her. She pushed my hand away and calmly stated, "Mommy. You are going to make all my snot come out."

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That's it for now, as I've sat here racking my brain, trying to remember some of the other countless times she's cracked us up... I wish I would have been better about writing more of them down!

Because, seriously. This child. She's funny, bossy, argumentative, adorable, hilarious, stubborn, cute-as-can-be, sweet, affectionate, cuddly, naughty, loveable, frustrating, clever, and I can't fathom life without her.

And, I might add, thankgoodness for the moments like these that make me laugh with her, for they make everything else totally worth it. Lord knows I need them. :)