Beanie, after listening to a discussion of the Assumption of Mary, shakes her head in bewilderment and says: "I’ve just never understood it. It has always been a mystery to me."
Beanie brings me a handful of tiny bits of Sculpey, delicately pinched at each end. "It’s taffy, Mommy! Here are the flavors: blueberry, strawberry, lemon, lime, orange, cherry, and corn."
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Any mother worth her salt knows to never, never ask a young artist, "Is it a (fill in the blank)?" You’re supposed to say, "Ooh, I like your sculpture; can you tell me about it?" and let the child’s conversation enlighten you as to the identity of the object she has so enthusiastically and inscrutably rendered.
I, however, have never claimed to be worth my salt. Which is why I am prone to exchanges like this one:
Me: "Ooh, what a great Sculpey lemur!"
Beanie: "Mom. It’s not a lemur. It’s a panther."
Whoops.
"You just take some raw meat, and plop some jam on it and smush it up. Then it’s perfect."
(Sighing): "Mommy, if I could have three wishes, one of them would be for you to have keener ears."
Mommy, how much imagination do we have?
Do you know what cave cats eat? (Bugs, it turns out.)
Did you know Blackie [her stuffed kitty] is the only cave cat in the world?
Where does the word ‘fir tree’ come from?
Can washing your face be one of the dailiest things in the day?
Beanie: "When I grow up, I’m going to have a canary. And several parakeets. And a parrot. And a cocktail."
Beanie: "Whew! I’m tired and thirsty! I think I’ll have a nice, refreshing milk mustache."
The six-year-old, overheard: "Smushilo, smushilari, smushilavi, smushilatum! I smush, to smush, I smushed, smushed!"
(Funny, I don’t recall that track on the Latin for Children chants CD.)