Encounters With Peabody

Peabody is happily playing with trains and tracks in the playroom. The Boogie decides that she wants to play where Peabody is. She starts to pick up tracks. Peabody protests. The Boogie angrily destroys the laid tracks. Peabody hits her with a train. The Boogie begins to wail. I send Peabody to her room. Peabody cries. I find out what happened, and tell the Boogie to reassemble the tracks. I deal with Peabody and have both girls apologize to each other. I tell Peabody that the Boogie is putting the tracks back together for her. "No," sulks Peabody, "I not want it. I wanna put away."  I throw up my hands in exasperation and leave the room.
 ~~~
P: "Honey, I got a boo-boo, right dere. I gotta little blape [scrape.] You kiss it ah me?" I kiss her knee. "Honey, I wanna Diego bam-baidge."
Me: "We don't have any Diego bandaids."
P: "I wanna Dora bam-baidge."
Me: "You don't need a bandaid. You're not bleeding."
P: "Yes, I bleedin' [she isn't]. I wanna Dora bam-baidge."
Me: "We don't say 'I want'."
P: "Please I have a Dora bam-baidge."
Me: "All right."
P: "I don't want one! I don't." Runs away.
 ~~~
Me: "How are your panties?"
P: "Good."
Me: "Are they wet or dry?"
P: "Dey bly [dry]."
Me: "Do you need to go potty?"
P: "No."
Me: "In a couple of minutes you need to go."
P: "O-tay. Honey, I wanna enem."
Me: "We don't say 'I want'."
P: "Please I have enem."
Me: "Thank you for asking nicely, but M&Ms are for when you go potty."
P: "Oh! Honey, I wanna go potty."
~~~
The "p" word is still very popular. Now it is also used as an angry word. I'm sure others who hear her think that she picked it up from us. Lovely.

At the store:
Me: "Come, get into the cart."
P: "I not ride ina cart. I wanna walk."
Me: "We don't say 'I want.' And this time you have to ride." I put her in the cart where she refuses to sit.
P: "Noooo! I not ride!"
Me: "You need to obey. Sit down."
P: "Poopy!" Plops down, sticks her thumb in her mouth, scowls ferociously at me.

At home:
Me: "Peabody, time to go potty!"
P: "Well, I don' wanna go potty."
Me: "It's time for you to go."
P: "Well, I already!" Raises her eyebrows and shrugs her shoulders with her palms upturned.
Me: "I know you already did but it's time to go again, so go potty right now."
P, angrily: "Poopy!" Stomps into the bathroom.

Me: "It's almost time for your nap."
P: "Well, I not take a nap."
Me: "Yes, in a couple minutes. You're tired and crabby."
P: "No, I not take a nap. I not pleepy."
Me: "Yes, you ARE going to take a nap. And don't be a sassy mouth."
P: "I NOT a sassy mouf. I not take a nap."
Me: "Daddy told you not to be sassy mouth. Do you need to talk to Daddy?"
P: "No."
Me: "Okay, then. No sassing. And in a couple minutes you have to take a nap."
P, under her breath: "Poopy."

P: "Honey, I wanna play a game."
Me: "We don't say 'I want.' And it's time for lunch!"
P, falling the ground in a dejected slump: "Poopy."

P: "I want that. You give it ah me?"
The Boogie: "No, I'm playing with it."
P, whining: "I want it!"
TB: "No! I had it first!"
P, hurling herself to the floor: "POOPY!!!"

So charming.

She tells me, "I wants more paiet [quiet] time." Quiet time is when she is overwrought and I make her lay on my bed for a blanky and thumb fix. She quickly discovered that my Nook is often on the bedside table. If I say yes to quiet time the next question is, "Please I play onz your Nook?"

On Thanksgiving after we ate dinner but before dessert, she came up to me and asked for what sounded like "paiet." "You want to have some quiet time?" I asked, puzzled.
"No," she exclaimed, exasperated, "I want PIE!"

Hearing "I want" a thousand times a day was making me crazy. I tried responding, "We don't say 'I want'," and that was making me crazier. I mentioned it to my mom who suggested, "Just ignore her." So I started to ignore it, or answer "What?" repeatedly until Peabody rephrased her wants into some semblance of polite request. She still says "I want" but often catches herself, or only requires one "What?" from me to get it right.

She came into my Sunday school class. When it was time to color she turned her paper over to the blank side to scribble on.

When I looked at it a minute or two later I saw this:

Amazed, I exclaimed, "Did you do that? Did you draw a happy face?"
"No," she said firmly, "it a angry face."
She continued scribbling and drew another face, then a square-ish circle with a long tail. "Look!" she said, "A kite!"

Amazing! A little artist. She does not get that from her mother.

She really is sweet, when she wants to be. She will offer to share something with her sister; she likes to snuggle with us; she will randomly tell us that she loves us, or that she loves someone else. She tells me, "Honey, I likes your eyeblows [eyebrows] an' I likes your hair," as she gently touches it. She is delighted with Baby O-nee and loves to be in the nursery with him.

The girls acquired some hand-me-down toys from cousins, including Woody and Buzz Lightyear from Toy Story. Peabody brought them home and played with them for a looooong time all by herself. She pretended to buckle them in the car and drive them somewhere; she tucked them in her sister's bed for naps; she brought them to me and had them introduce themselves repeatedly. "Hi, I Woody. Dis Buzz. Dis Peabody. Wha's your name? Oh, you Honey? Hi Honey! I Woody! Dis Buzz!"

She stayed awake long after she was put in bed last night, and finally called to me that she needed to go potty. Annoyed, I got her out of her crib and took off all of her layers. Squinting and blinking in the sudden light of the bathroom she looked up at me and asked, "Are you my darlin', Honey? Are you my darlin'?" Sweet little girlie.

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