I had just read a story to Lola. We're trying to have her in bed by 8-ish lately. She seems to be more agreeable in the morning. Rocket science for parents!
We usually then have this great in depth conversation, our best at her bedtime. It's her way of stalling the inevitable. "Mom, I hate Cameron, he pulls my hair and pokes me on the bus." I asked who Cameron was and told her boys can be a bit silly like that. I told her to give him the most maniacal look she could muster and then tell him to stop or she would eat him for breakfast. She laughed. "Let's not use the word *hate* OK? That's a really strong word to use."
"When I say the word HATE I see the color BLACK. When I hear or say the word SHIT, I see the color RED." Her family rule for Sean and me, is to not have us use the word shit around her. She rules with an iron fist that kid! "Lola, that's what I mean, those are really strong words and your mind and your body are reacting to them by seeing colors in your mind!"
She excitedly propped up on one elbow, the bathroom light across the hall nudging into our private conversation, she squinted, "Mom! You get me, you really get me!!!!"