Aug 29 2011
I Need a Pet Chicken
Everyday Annada says something that makes me laugh or think. Here are a few recent thoughts from her:
Pet Chicken
Annada and I were riding home from church yesterday when she asked for French fries. Admittedly, Marc and I are usually starving when we get out of church and stop at McD’s on the way home. Last night, however, we had gone out to dinner first so I had more will power than normal.
I told Annada she could not have French fries, but she could pick out a snack when we got home.
Annada paused. “I don’t want a snack,” she said. “I want a pet.”
Uh oh, I thought. Annada paused for another minute.
“And not a worm, Mommy!” Annada chastised me. (She had asked me for a pet a week ago and I cut up a straw and told her they were worm babies. She made them a little bed and played with them for hours. However, I guess worms were not going to cut it this time.)
Then she burst out, “I want a chicken pet, Mommy! I want a chicken pet so I can touch it. A chicken pet will run with me. Not a normal one. A touching chicken. Please Mommy, please can I have a chicken pet?”
Stunned (and trying not to laugh) I didn’t answer Annada.
“Please, Mommy. Please, please, pleeeeeeaaaaaasssseeee. May I have a touching chicken?”
I still did not know what to say. So Annada changed tactics and began singing.
“I want a touching chicken to run with me, to tooouuuccch,” She sang. “Please give me a chicken, Mommy.”
The plee for a pet chicken song went on until we got home.
(In case you are wondering, we are not getting a pet. No family that is away from home 3+ months a year should have a pet. That is what Meme’s cats are for.)
That Would Not Be Awesome
Annada has a new phrase, “That would not be awesome.”
She uses it to describe a situation that seems like a good idea, but she knows is not as great as it could be.
For example, tonight as we walked home from the playground she stuck her head through the pool gate and said, “I could go swimming by myself Mommy. That would not be awesome.”
Or another time, “I can run down the stairs! But when I fall, that would not be awesome.”
I Let the Pain Out of My Heart
At the pool I asked Annada if she was happy or sad.
“I am happy,” she said. I asked her why.
“I cried,” she replied. Confused I asked why she cried if she was happy.
“I washed the pain out of my heart, Mommy,” she said. “Now I am happy.”
Will You Die, Mommy?
A few days ago Annada crawled into my lap looking very serious.
“Mommy, did Nemo’s mommy die?” she asked. There was something about the way she asked that made it more of a statement than a question.
We don’t let her watch PG movies for this reason – she doesn’t miss anything. But I vaguely remembered Nemo being on without sound at frozen yogurt place we went to weeks ago.
“Yes, Annada, in the movie, Nemo’s mommy died.”
Annada didn’t even pause.
“Will you die, Mommy?”
(Oh God, please help me, I prayed.)
“Yes Annada, everyone dies.”
“What is it like to die?” Annada asked.
“Well, it is like when we went to Africa. God calls you and you leave Orlando to move to heaven to live with Him,” I said.
“Will you and Daddy come with me to heaven?” she replied.
(I was thinking, can this be normal for a 2-year-old? I thought I had years before this conversation.)
“Well, we will either be waiting for you or will come meet you there,” I said.
Annada broke out into a smile and hugged me, no longer serious. “We will live in our heaven home!” she said.
It was like a spell broke and Annada went back to being a 2-year-old. But I don’t think she forgot.
In fact, a couple of days ago we let her watch Rango (minus some scary parts) with her friend Diego and his family. When the movie was over I asked her if she liked it.
“No, because people were mean to each other and some of them died,” she said.