The princess

“I’m the king!” Daniel exclaimed excitedly as he put Hannah’s plastic tiara on his head. In case we didn’t hear him, he told us again, “I’m the KING, mommy!”

“I’m a princess!” Hannah said, wanting to play royals too.

Daniel looked at her for a split second before declaring “I’m a princess!”

“No, you’re the king.” I told him.

“I’M A PRINCESS!!!!!”

Sigh.

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Copyright 2013 Sheri Thomson

Your plane isn’t good enough

Dad's airplane

A few years ago, my Dad had his I’m-getting-so-old-what-can-I-do-to-make-me-feel-younger mid-life crisis.  I think at that stage, most men buy a swish shiny sports car that goes really, really fast.  My dad bought a plane.  He loves his plane.  He took flying lessons, got his flying licence, and often flew my Mom somewhere for the day.  He hasn’t flown in a while, but he is still proud of his plane.

Naturally, he wanted to show his see-I’m-still-young plane to Hannah.  She has been saying “air-pane” ever since we got here.  Not really because she likes them, but because she knows that is how we got here, and thus how we will eventually get home.  I keep telling her “not yet, the big airplane isn’t ready for us.”  Sometimes she looks at me rather seriously and then says “bus.”  I suppose in her mind that makes sense.  I mean a bus does get you places.  Just not from the U.S. to Australia….

We pulled up to the little air field where Dad keeps his plane and Hannah was all excited.  Dad got a phone call, so we sat in the car for a bit while he talked and somehow managed to hear the person on the other end, despite Hannah’s constant,

Hannah in the cockpit

enthusiastic chants of “Air-pane! Air-pane,”  no doubt thinking she was about to go home.

Dad put her in the cock pit of his plane. “NO!” Hannah said, rather disgustedly.  I took her out.

Immediately, she started pointing at the plane next to Dad’s “this one!  This one!” She told us, running towards it.  When we got there, she wanted in that plane.

“No Hannah, that’s not Grandpa John’s plane.  We can’t go in this plane.”

“This one! This one!” Clearly, a 20-month old doesn’t understand the laws of ownership.

“Hannah, did you like Grandpa’s airplane?”  he asked her on the way back to the car.

"THIS ONE!"

“No!” she pointed to the one next to it as I carried her along. The one she ran to in delight. “THIS one!”

I think my Dad’s ego may be slightly bruised.  I, on the other hand, thought it was HILARIOUS!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!

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Hannah the helper baby

Long ago, we discovered that Hannah is a worker.  When something is spilled, she runs to get a towel and clean it up.  When I go grocery shopping, she unpacks all the cold stuff and puts it in the fridge (I of course move it, but that is not the point).  Yesterday she carried a 2 litre bottle of milk in each hand, from the bag to the fridge.  She helps me unload the dishwasher, load the washing machine, cook, put clothes away, sweep, vacuum, you name it, she will help with it.

We don’t force her to help, she wants to do it.  If we don’t let her, she gets really cranky and annoyed.  She could be playing, but helping is far more fun to her.

I just hope when she is older, she likes to help just as much….

P.S. yes, the shed in the background in the clothes shot is the shed.  In case you were wondering….

What do you want for lunch?

Me: “What do you want for lunch Sweet Pea?”

Hannah: “Bubba.”

Me: “Ok, you stay here with Daddy and I’ll go make you a bubba for lunch.”

Did she eat it?  Nope.  Not a bite.  Ok, that’s not true, she took a bite of the carrot, pretended to gag and then wanted to get down.  Humph.