So the Little Monster is... about two and a half now. I'm getting much better at explaining who she is to me, now, mostly because I can't shut up about her and people frequently stop me and say, "Wait, what toddler?!"
No, I didn't magically have a kid. I live with one. I have for more than a year. She's not my child and frankly I think I'd be, like, the worst parent ever so I'm glad she's not my child, but she for mysterious reasons occupies a lot of my brain. I've gotten used to it. The first time I was away from the NeuHaus for a long term petsitting gig, I was startled and worried when, in the middle of a run, I was hit with a wave of missing her so much I almost cried. I suppose I have to blame biology and man-as-a-social-creature for this.
In any case, she calls me 'Aunt Cake' or more often just 'Cake' - my name is hard for little humans to pronounce and when my cousin was little she did the same thing - and while she's always been pretty smart, in the past couple of months her language and comprehension skills have just skyrocketed. I think she's hysterically funny, and sometimes the things that come out of her mouth are so freaking brilliant when you consider that she's not even three years old.
I've been doing my best to write down some of the gems, as has the rest of the Collective. Here are some of them. I wasn't there for all of these, but I assure you none of us embellish these things. It's not really possible to make what she says any better.
No, I didn't magically have a kid. I live with one. I have for more than a year. She's not my child and frankly I think I'd be, like, the worst parent ever so I'm glad she's not my child, but she for mysterious reasons occupies a lot of my brain. I've gotten used to it. The first time I was away from the NeuHaus for a long term petsitting gig, I was startled and worried when, in the middle of a run, I was hit with a wave of missing her so much I almost cried. I suppose I have to blame biology and man-as-a-social-creature for this.
In any case, she calls me 'Aunt Cake' or more often just 'Cake' - my name is hard for little humans to pronounce and when my cousin was little she did the same thing - and while she's always been pretty smart, in the past couple of months her language and comprehension skills have just skyrocketed. I think she's hysterically funny, and sometimes the things that come out of her mouth are so freaking brilliant when you consider that she's not even three years old.
I've been doing my best to write down some of the gems, as has the rest of the Collective. Here are some of them. I wasn't there for all of these, but I assure you none of us embellish these things. It's not really possible to make what she says any better.
(I lean over the gate to wave good bye to the Little Monster, who is sitting in a box. I have my helmet in my hand.)
Little Monster: You... are you having a tricycle?
Me: I have a bicycle.
Little Monster: It have two wheels. You going to ride it?
Me: Yes. I'm going to school. See you later.
Little Monster: Okay. I watch Howl.
Little Monster: You... are you having a tricycle?
Me: I have a bicycle.
Little Monster: It have two wheels. You going to ride it?
Me: Yes. I'm going to school. See you later.
Little Monster: Okay. I watch Howl.
Little Monster: "What's this?"
Catface Meowmers: "That's a library card."
Little Monster: "...is it for touching the ferrets?"
Catface Meowmers: "That's a library card."
Little Monster: "...is it for touching the ferrets?"
Bearcat: You need to get good at eating with a spoon. That's how grown-ups eat.
Little Monster: Grown-ups don't eat!
Bearcat: Well, I'm a grown-up, and I eat.
Little Monster: Grown-ups are for opening doors.
Little Monster: Grown-ups don't eat!
Bearcat: Well, I'm a grown-up, and I eat.
Little Monster: Grown-ups are for opening doors.
(Little Monster wants to do something she can't do, which happens often. Catface Meowmers begins suggesting other things that are similar but also possible.)
Little Monster (interrupting): Shh, Mom. No choices.
Bearcat: Do you like dinosaurs?
Little Monster: No, dinosaurs are extinct.
Little Monster: No, dinosaurs are extinct.
Little Monster: Oh, NO! We NEVER find the puzzle piece.
Catface Meowmers: You're really fatalistic, you know that about you?
Little Monster: Mommy, I not a fishstick.
(I overhear this from another room.)
Little Monster: Mommy, I going to climb on your head, okay? And you not say ow or move or anything, okay?
Catface Meowmers: You're really fatalistic, you know that about you?
Little Monster: Mommy, I not a fishstick.
(I overhear this from another room.)
Little Monster: Mommy, I going to climb on your head, okay? And you not say ow or move or anything, okay?
This conversation is not particularly funny to anyone but me, but I'm recording it because it shows the fact that I'm able to have almost a real conversation with a person who I remember as a kind of mobile scream machine.
(I arrive home from class the same time Bearcat and Little Monster arrive from running errands.)
Little Monster, through the car window: HI, CAKE!
Me: HI! What are you doing?
Little Monster, while climbing out of the car: I coming out of the car.
Me: I see that. Good job. Be careful.
Little Monster: I being careful. (She says this to us a lot, because we're constantly begging her to be careful.) You ride your bicycle? You ride your bicycle to school?
Me: Yeah, I rode my bike to school today.
(I go to put my bike away while she and Bearcat do stuff at the car. We intersect again on the way inside the house.)
Me: What did you do today?
Little Monster, with her mouth full: Nuthies.
Me: You did nothing?
Little Monster: NUGGIES! (She shows me the chicken nugget in her mouth. If that was the grossest thing she'd ever shown me, I would be happier, and I can't express how much I sympathize with those Collective members who may or may not have been vomited on like in the Exorcist. So I am not fazed by the masticated nugget.)
Me: Oh, I see. You did nuggies today. That's good.
Little Monster: Yeah, nuggies are pretty good.
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