Yesterday I shared my boy’s most recent page out of “Kids Say the Darndest Things.” Tonight, we hand the mike over to the girl…

Me (while reading “Put Me In the Zoo”):  “What do you think this word is?  It starts with a ‘V,’ and it’s another name for ‘purple.’”
Eva:  “Vurple?”

After I interrupted her, causing her to forget what she was going to say next:  “Mama!  You’re talking so loud that I don’t know where my talking is!”

Me:  “Eva, I don’t think you should wear these tappy shoes with this outfit.  They’re more for dresses.  They won’t really match your shorts.”
Eva:  “Well, I want to wear my tappy shoes, because people will think I’m very useful.”

As a jogger approached:  “Mama, why is that lady running at us?”

Chasing the dog around with a biscuit:  “Rooosie!  I have a tummy yummy for you!”

As I picked up some speed while pushing Anna on her tricycle:  “Mama, don’t run in those sandals!  You could fall!”

Me (getting her ready for a trip to Roaring Brook Park):  “Grandma’s taking you and Tyler to a every special place today.”
Eva:  “Oh!  Is Anna going, too?”
Me:  “No, not yet.  Anna’s too little.”
Eva (sighing):  “Oh.  I wish Anna was old enough for adventures.”

Me:  “Did you know you’re my little girl?”
Eva:  “Did you know you’re my big mama?”  (Not exactly the desired response.)

Closing the door and cornering Anna with a pack of barrettes: “Come here, Anna.  This won’t hurt a bit!”

When I tried to skip one of the 42 pages in “The Cat in the Hat”:  “No, Mama!  There’s more talkin’ in this book!”

Eva (in response to Anna’s “umph” as she hoisted herself into the van):  “Anna!  Don’t say ‘UMPH’!”
Me:  “Why can’t she say ‘umph’?”
Eva:  “Because!  It’s not a steep mountain!”

After whacking her toe on an open drawer:  “Mama, I bumped my toe, and I’m NOT feeling fine!”

When the bell on her bike wouldn’t ring:  “Why isn’t my bike bellin’?”

Me:  “You are a little princess.”
Eva:  “But I want to be a mermaid-pirate-fairy princess!”

As I tried to help her off her swing:  “No, I can get myself off myself!”

Gazing into the Bean’s eyes:  “Mama, there’s two Eva’s in Bean’s eyes!”

Me:  “Do you want to play hide and seek?”
Eva:  “OK!  I’ll hide in the closet, and you try to find me!”

One of the best things I ever did since I became a mother is, every time something sweet, funny or thought-provoking comes out of my kids’ mouths, to stop everything and write it down.  There is scrap paper floating all over my house—on little pieces of memo paper, the margins of shopping lists, on junk mail envelopes and the backs of receipts—of all my kids’ witticisms of the day.  Every chance I get, I compile them into their own personal book of quotations.  Who knows, maybe they’re only cute and funny to their mother, but I decided to share them anyway.  This evening, Tyler gets the spotlight and the mike.  Enjoy.

Over a big plate of spaghetti:  “Can I have another napkin?  Mine is all sauced out.”

Tyler:  “Mom, do bears come to our driveway?”
Me:  “Not usually.  Bears are afraid of people, so they don’t like to come too close to the house.”
Tyler:  “Do they like to step on puzzle boxes?”
Me:  “It’s not likely that a bear would step on your puzzle box, if that’s what you’re asking.”
Tyler (genuinely confused):  “Then why did you make me bring it back in the house?”

Me (after kindergarten orientation):  “Aren’t you excited to see all the kids in your new class?”
Tyler:  “Will the adults be in my new class, too?”
Me:  “No, they were just there for orientation.  Why, do you like adults better than kids?”
Tyler:  “Yes.”
Me:  “How come?”
Tyler:  “Because they get me stuff in the refrigerator that’s too high for me to reach.”

Tyler (as he watched me crack a bowl of walnuts):  “Mom, I want to plant a walnut tree in our yard.”
Me:  “Well, maybe we can!”
Tyler (examining a walnut): “But, does it have a seed?”
Me:  “Yes, everything that grows has seeds.  I’m pretty sure the walnut is the seed.  I’ll have to find out about that.”
Tyler:  “Maybe you should give it an X-ray.”

Tyler (analyzing his puzzle):  “Wait! I know where it goes!”  (popping the piece in place)  “See?  That’s where it goo!”
Me:  “You mean, that’s where it WENT?”
Tyler:  “Oh.” (smiling sheepishly)  “I forgot what to say.”

Tyler:  “I can’t wait to get these Wedgits in the clear box with the blue handle!”
Me:  “Maybe for Christmas. But we don’t have the money to get that right yet.”
Tyler:  “Daddy has money.”
Me:  “He does?  Well where is he hiding it?”
Tyler:  “It’s in his pocket.”  (Patting his left hip, looking both ways and lowering his voice)  “You have to look in this one, right here.”

Eva:  “Mama, I don’t suck my thumb anymore!”
Me:   “Yes, you do.  I just saw you sucking your thumb ten minutes ago.”
Eva:  “No I don’t.  I do NOT suck my thumb!”
Me:   “Yes, you do.  You’re a chronic thumb-sucker.”
Eva:  “What does ‘chronic thumb-sucker’ mean?”
Tyler: “It means you have thumbsuckerosis!”

Eva (holding up a flower girl dress): “Mama, is this the dress you wore when you got married?”
Me:  “No, that dress is for kids.  When I got married, I was twenty-nine years old.”
Tyler:  “See, Eva?  That can’t be Mom’s dress.  Hers was a size twenty-nine.”

Watching the water drip out of the filter:  “Is it done filting yet?”

Me:  “Guess who’s coming over today?”
Tyler:  “Who?”
Me:  “Grandma!”
Tyler:  “Which one?”
Me:  “Grandma Lariviere!”
Tyler: “But we just saw Grandma Lariviere yesterday.”
Me:  “So?”
Tyler:  “After we see Grandma Larivere, we need to see Grandma Petrovits.  Then, Grandma Lariviere again.  Tell the grandmas they need to make a pattern!”

Tyler (as I stood by the edge of the pool):  “Why aren’t you coming in?”
Me:  “Because I’m too tired today.”
Tyler: “That’s OK.  You can sleep in the pool!”

Me (examining his foot): “I told you to stop growing your feet when they were this big.” (holding out my hands)  “But now they’re already this big.” (stretching hands wider).
Tyler (measuring a foot with one hand):  “Look!  They’re so big they almost broke my fingers!”

Indignantly, after I handed him his outfit of the day:  “Mom, you gave me Eva’s skirt.  And it’s a size FOUR!”

August 11 has become a monumental day at our house, and today it became even more so as I organized and survived my first kid birthday party.

I decided to keep it simple—four friends from school at the local playground to celebrate Eva’s… fourth birthday—but discovered that even the simplest of events are massive undertakings.  There is so much to assemble—the pizza and cake, juice boxes, ice, cooler, goodie bags, and the details that surprisingly didn’t slip my mind—the knife for the cake, the matches for the candles, and of course, the children.

“My mama told me I’m FOUR today,” Eva announced to everyone on the playground, whether they were guests of her party or not.  And the girls ran amuck until the playground closed down, swinging around the spoils from their goodie bags (you know, the ones stuffed with cheap bubblegum machine prizes that make kids feel like they just won the lottery).

At the end, I loaded up the car, exhausted, and remembered we weren’t even at the final stretch.  Tomorrow, the four grandparents come over to spoil their granddaughter rotten and feast on chocolate marble cake.

“We have to go home and take a bath,” I said to Eva as I strapped her into her car seat.  “Because guess what?  Tomorrow, you’re going to have ANOTHER birthday party!”

“Oh, she said thoughtfully, winding her glow-in-the-dark bubble necklace between her fingers.  “Does that mean tomorrow I’ll be FIVE?”

They told me the years would go by fast, but this is ridiculous.