Ultra Violet

Apparently I am simply destined to be up before dawn on Mondays, thank-you-very-much, Tess, the dog who groans and barks until I get up out of fear that she's going to have an accident that I will just have to clean up.  Yay for 5:45!  SO not happy about this, so it's a good thing that the kids adore her, grrrr...

So, as long as I'm up, I think I'll share a bit about our dear wee Violet, who will insist that she is "Not a muffin!" or "Not a puppy!" or "not" whatever you tease her about being.  Yes, I tease my two-year-old.  I also let her out of the house in 90 degree weather wearing her winter boots and Tinkerbell sunglasses with her ensemble -- which, on that particular day was a jeans skirt and t-shirt, so she tromped around wearing her sunglasses (upside down) and boots, looking very much like a Hollywood starlet.  Hey, at least she made people smile!

Little miss is potty training.  She's really good about getting her poopies in the potty, but apparently really only likes to tinkle in the potty at daycare, when she's stalling at bedtime, or when we're out and about and she thinks she'd like to see the inside of the restroom in stores or restaurants.  So she is definitely not ready to wear undies full-time.

Miss "not a muffin!" has been very animated as she tells us stories about what she's done that day.  She narrates them with a very musical tone, her voice climbing and falling for great effect, her little hands flitting about as they sketch the shapes and rhythm of her words.

One of her current favorite tales is the Tale of the Tornado Drill.  She vividly recounts the tornado drill practiced at daycare one stormy day:

"We hadta go to the basement because it was a wainy day with lots of flunder!  It was a big storm and we went under a table and the lights went on and off and on and off and we were in the basement!"

As she tells this thriller, she leans towards her listener, raising her eyebrows on "wainy" and "flunder" and popping her hands open, fingers splayed wide when she says "on" and fists closed tightly when she says "off" for the status of the lights.  She does this every time she tells the story, as if she's made her own little finger play for the tale.  She will tell you this story over and over until you acknowledge her with a relevant comment -- a general "Wow!" or "Oh, my goodness!" will not suffice, you must note how the lights went "on and off and on and off" or that the "flunder" was loud and maybe even a little scary.  Or you will hear this tale again and again and again.  And, really, a two-sentence tale can be retold  thirteen times a minute, you know...

My bonny lass has also decided that her name is "Violet, Big Girl."  She will answer to just plain old Violet, but if you ask her who she is, she will answer you with name and title.  She claims the big girl status at the playground, where she scampers up ladders as quick as a chimp, passing children her own age and older to  claim her spot in line for the slide.  She tells anyone who will listen that her name is "Violet, Big Girl" and that she is four, or sometimes six years old.  Adults smile and compliment her for her youthful appearance, but children sometimes actually believe her.  Poor gullible children...

Oh, to be two and ready to conquer the world...