"I Want to Eat My Pumpkin!"

Here are some things we've heard from our Jellybean over the last couple months:


It's the night before Halloween and we've finished carving our pumpkins:
"I want to eat my pumpkin!," she squeals as she grabs hers from the kitchen table.
"What?" we ask, kind of confused, "You want to eat it?"
"Yes," she says emphatically, like we're sooo slow, while shaking her little jack o' lantern held in her hands. "Let's make our punkins into pumpkin PIE," spoken with heh-heh-heavy emphasis on the word 'pie'.

We're in the middle of dinner and she's not interested in eating, stalling in any way she can:
"I have a secret to tell," she whispers to us. "Oh really?" we both say. Whispering now, leaning forward over the kitchen table, she says, "Yes, speesh spweesh calla fragelistic spweesh splah kaboom" (or something very much like that)" -and we all laugh. My honey-man tells her he has a secret for her too, and she's all excited and she hunkers down, so serious, so eager to hear the secret he has to tell her...
He leans toward her: "Eeeat youur peezzah," he whispers, followed by an enormously wide-eyed smile on his face. She giggles, puts her chin down towards her chest, maintaining eye contact with her daddy, and quietly shakes her head, no. She then whispers to him that she has a secret for him, her eyes big, all serious, but she cracks a little smile as she whispers: "Drink your wine!"

Her big brother, the angel boy-O, had left LV that afternoon to return to UT for the rest of his Thanksgiving holiday break, and we were driving home as she was coming to terms with the fact that he wouldn't be home once we got there: "Mommie, I hurt all over." Hearing this, I slowed my driving immediately, thinking she was ill, and I asked her if she needed me to stop and help her.  She began to quietly whimper and I could see in my 'spy on the kids in back'-mirror that her eyes were welling up with big fat tears, "No mommie, I'll be okay. I just want my big brother."

Talkin' Christmas tree lights:  I favor white tree lights, while my honey-man, he likes colored tree lights, so every other Christmas, we take turns.  This year it's my turn to have white lights on our tree. Neither of us said anything about this to Jellybean.  Well, we had bought our tree last Saturday and my honey-man put up its lights late the following Sunday night while our Jellybean was fast asleep.  The next morning, coming downstairs for the first time of that morning, she sees the tree all lit up and her face falls into a look of confusion... "Where are all the colors?"  And my honey-man whips around and points at me, "Ha!"

I'm looking for my wallet and can't find it anywhere:  Jellybean knows I'm looking for my wallet, and I've explained we cannot leave until we find it.  She's been watching me very closely, following me around, even trying to help me look for it, and she realizing that I'm getting a bit panicked...  "Mommie, are you upset?" Me - "Yes, sweets, I'm getting frustrated because I'm looking everywhere and I still can't find my wallet, and I cannot leave for work until I find it."  She smiles at me, mischieviously, "Mommie, I know where you're wallet is..."  - - - the short of what follows this admission is that she tells me with great enthusiasm that she threw it in the trash, and then looks at me all coy, when I don't respond well to this idea.  I calmly ask her if she really did throw it in the trash (I do not believe her), and she confirms, emphatically, "Yes, yes I did." I ask her if she's really telling me the truth, and she tilts her head to the side, squints her eyes and instead asks me if I think it's funny. I tell her, "No, it's not funny at all. If you threw my wallet in the trash, mommie would be super upset." She thinks about this for a couple seconds, shrugs her shoulders, and walks over to me and takes my head, "I'm sorry, mommie. I didn't throw your wallet in the trash. I just want you to relax mommie and laugh. Let's help you find your wallet. We'll find it, mommie, don't worry." (She's totally spoon feeding me my own approach to her own lil' moments of panic.)
Later, after giving up on the wallet search, we're in the car and I find my wallet, fallen underneath the middle console - - "I'm so happy for you mommie!", she beams.

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