“Little Boo, don’t kick the cat!! That’s NOT nice”
This is what I heard the Original Boo saying very sternly to Little Boo in the other room. I was in the kitchen; the only person with enough patience to sit through Princess Rapunzel’s incredibly drawn out dinnertime. It’s amazing how much more slowly you eat when you have a million questions to ask and comments to make between minuscule bites.
“Mommy, why are these called elbows?”
“Mommy, why did you use these red tomatoes? Why didn’t you use the yellow tomatoes?”
“Mommy, why is this green bean filled with magic beans? Will it make a beanstalk that I can climb up?”
“What did you do with the apple seeds? Did you put them outside so that the wind could blow them down to the ground and plant an apple tree?”
“What did you say?”
“I heard you say something.”
“I just have one more question.”
“Mommy, I’m full. My tummy hurts and it hurts on the side over here, on my hip. I can’t eat anymore bites. Can I eat three more bites? Can I eat five more bites? Is that a lot? Will that be fine?”
“Mommy, you have to let me finish my sentence! I’m thinking!”
“Mommy, is this a green pepper? I don’t like green peppers! You know that! When I was a baby, did I say, ‘Green peppers are yucky’? Did I eat them when I was a baby?”
I think you get the point. Meals take for-ev-er. So PR and I were in the kitchen when I heard the scolding go down. Little Boo immediately started crying because she does not like to hear anything that involves saying no or telling her not to do something. Typical terrible two’s! She came running in to me, so I picked her up and wanted to ask her about what had just happened in the other room.
Me: “LB, did you kick the cat? You can’t kick kitties, that isn’t nice!”
LB: “No! I no kick cat!”
Me: “But I heard Daddy. He was upset at you for kicking the cat.”
LB: “No Mama, cat kick meeeeeee!”
Me: “The cat kicked you? But why did Daddy think that you kicked the cat.”
LB: “No kick cat! Cat kick meeeeeee!”
Me: “Where did the cat kick you?”
LB: “Cat kick leg. Hurt!!”
Me: “The cat kicked you on the leg and it hurts? Are you sure that the cat kicked you?”
LB: “Yeah! I sure!”
Then she got down off my lap and started limping across the room. I tried to control my laughter.
Me: “LB, you are hurt! Do you need to go to the hospital?”
LB: “Yeah, hosbable!”
Me: “Oh no! You better go tell Daddy that the cat kicked you and that you need to go to the hospital to have it looked at.”
She limped off to the living room.
LB: “Daddy, cat kick meeeeeee! Leg hurt! Hospable!”
I had now completely abandoned all efforts to get PR to finish eating because I was laughing so hard. Unfortunately, the Original Boo did not find this at all amusing. He said that I was encouraging her to tell a lie. I thought that I was just encouraging her to be imaginative and to weave a riveting tale. Her story was pretty convincing and she was so insistent that she had been the victim here. The cat had gone downstairs and wasn’t available for questioning. I really don’t want to take sides, so I guess I just have to accept the fact that I may never really know if I have a cat kicking kid, or a kid kicking cat. Although this morning LB told me that her elbow was gone (it was not), so I’m starting to question her credibility.
Details on LB’s adorable *all small business mom-preneur shops* outfit:
Are you kitten me right meow sweatshirt: Little Bow and Arrow
Cat leggings: Indie Nook
Mini hearts knotted headband: House of Mia
Sand suede moccs: Freshly Picked
**Important note: I’d like to assure all of my readers that no cats or kids were actually harmed in the events leading up to and inspiring this blog post.