“Look at my tattoos!” and other conversation starters

“Look at my tattoos!” and other conversation starters

Stella isn’t very good at just sitting on the potty. While she’s waiting, she figures she might as well be emptying all the bathroom cupboard drawers and strewing their contents across the floor. One time, she brought a notepad and a pen to the bathroom with her. Daddy thought she was just going to draw on the paper. Silly him. A few moments later, he went to check on her. She had scribbled all over her arms, tummy, and legs. “Look at my tattoos!” How does she know what tattoos are? “Oh, what did you draw?” I asked. “Alien spacemen,” she said. How does she know what alien spacemen are?

Another time, five minutes after we needed to be out the door to make it to school on time, Stella was not just sitting on the potty. I was somewhere else, doing something that was probably important, when I noticed the silence. I poked my head in the bathroom and Stella was on the potty with semi-permanent lip liner scrawled across her eyebrows and forehead. “I have makeup!” she said. I should have seen this coming. That makeup had been in the bottom cupboard drawer for nine months. How did it take that long for her to realize it was there? Well, now it’s in the trash.

One day while we were driving in the car, Stella told me she was going to work. “What kind of work do you do?” I asked. “Business work,” she said. “What kind of business?” Pause. “Monkey business.” How does she know what monkey business is?

 

 

 

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