NoNoNoNoNo. Ba Ba. MMMM.

"NoNoNoNoNo" while waiving her hand back and forth: Paxten saying "no" to something or someone.
"Ba Ba" while waiving up and down: Paxten saying "bye-bye" to someone.
"MMMM" while putting her hand at her mouth, then lowering her arm: Paxten blowing someone a kiss.

The most fun about this is that right now she'll do it on command.  At dinner the other day, I showed this to one of my friend's mom, and even though she loved it, ("Your girls are both so smart.") I kind of felt the same way I do when I have Cady doing tricks for me in front of someone.

"I'm sorry you're upset. When you calm down, I'll give you a hug and we can talk about what happened."

Great Read on Why 3 Year Olds Throw Tantrums HERE, and after reading this, I want you all to know that I love P1 and P2 more than I’ve ever loved anything in this world,  and they are both  very good kids.  I hope my blog never suggests otherwise when I talk about a temper tantrum or two that may be thrown every once in a while.

One interesting comment from the article:
"The average tantrum lasts about three minutes, according to Potegal's research. That's why, shortly after a tantrum, your kid is back to playing as if nothing happened, while you're still quaking from the event a half hour later."  Let me just say that I was quaking from THIS tantrum all day.  It just stayed with me.  Of course, blogging about it meant that I had to relive it too.

Night Night Time

Every night I read Presley a story or four, and sometimes I tell her a story, but when it is time for me to leave it has always been a struggle, until recently.  Again this goes back to her wanting to feel like she is the one making decisions, which as you can see in my blog, is a common theme in Presley's life.  Recently after I've told her "love you, good night, sweet dreams, see you in the morning," she has asked if she can "just rest."  Obviously she falls asleep, but something about asking if she can "just rest" after I tell her to go to sleep empowers her, I suppose, because she always goes right to sleep.  As a bonus, on Friday night after I told her she could "just rest," she asked me if she could "tell herself a story."  Naturally I told her yes, and for the next 10 minutes I could hear her talking in the monitor telling herself a story.  Cracked me up.  I love that girl.

Presley 2, Daddy 1 ? ? ? ? ?

A few of my more recent blogs have joked about Presley out smarting daddy.  The most recent was Presley 2, Daddy 0 and just before that I gave you Presley 1, Daddy 0, but this one is different.

One of the hardest things I am discovering with a 3 year old is when to pick and choose my battles.

Presley has started crying when she doesn't get her way.  When she starts crying and throwing a temper tantrum about something that didn't go her way, it is easy to fix what she is crying about and move on so she'll stop crying.  The problem with this is that this teaches her that if she cries, then she'll get her way.  Letting her cry is sometimes harder on me than just fixing her problem so she'll stop crying.  What if we are running late?  What if it really isn't that big of a deal?  Do I still pursue it to make a point?  I’ve looked for help in my manual to raising kids, but then I remembered that neither Presley nor Paxten came with an instruction manual.

This is what happened Thursday morning:

Lora is in New York City so I am getting both girls ready for school by myself.  I came down with P1 and P2 both dressed at 8:14 AM, but they still needed to be fed before we left the house at 8:30.  (Leaving the house at 8:30 is important because of the car line, which gives me only a 15 minute window when I can drop Presley off at school without having to take Paxten out of the car and walking Presley in.  Plus school starts between 8:30 and 8:45, so any time after that and Presley interrupts her class.  Not to mention, Daddy has to work too.)

When we get down stairs, I put P2 in her high chair and immediately open up a Pop Tart for Presley and put it on a plate on her table.  (She doesn’t like them toasted.)

When Presley sees this, she immediately tells me that she wants Dora cereal.

I tell her that we are in a hurry and don’t have time to eat Dora cereal.

She starts crying and tells me that she doesn’t want a Pop Tart because she wants Dora cereal.

(So the battle has started.  I can either give her the cereal, which in honesty takes a lot longer for her to eat, or I can let her cry.  Again, the problem here is that she is already crying a lot so if I give her the cereal, her mind learns that by crying about something even after Daddy told her no, she still got her way.)

Not only do I decide to let her cry, but I pick her up and take her in the guest room just off of the kitchen, turn the light on, and shut the door.  She continues crying for the next 15 minutes.  During that time, I feed Paxten, clean her hands and load her in the car.

I come back inside put the Pop Tart in a Ziploc bag because I know she is going to want it and take it to the car.

Presley is still in the room crying.  I go get her and load her in the car.  She is kicking and screaming the whole way there.  After I buckle her in the car seat, I get in the car to get ready to leave.  At this point, Presley informs me that she is hungry.  I let her know that I have the Pop Tart if she wants it.  She informs me that she does want it, and after I hand it to her, she stops crying and begins eating it.  (End of the battle.  Presley ate what I wanted her to eat and did not get her way by crying.  I want to mention this could have all been avoided if I would have given her a choice, which I usually do, and would have done if we had time to for her to eat cereal, but once she started crying, letting her cry became the only solution unfortunately.)  So I start driving, and I tell Presley that I am taking Paxten to school first to give Presley time to eat her Pop Tart.

After I had already told her I was taking Paxten to school first, Presley told me three, yes 3, different times that she wanted me to take Paxten to school first.  Presley told me well after we had passed her school, then she also told me two more times for good measure on the way to Paxten’s school. Presley is a smart kid.  She obviously knew that she had just given in to Daddy, so I guess she wanted to feel like Daddy was doing something that she wanted him to do also.

If you are still reading this, then I figure you’ll continue reading too, so you are going to be rewarded with something funny Presley did on the way to Paxten’s school.  Keep in mind Presley does not want to do anything that Daddy asks her to do because of what just happened.  Usually she likes it when I point out the Post Office whenever we go by it because I take her in there with me at times to check the mail.  So on the trip to take Paxten to school first, we pass the Post Office:

Me:  Presley we are about to drive by the Post Office.

P1:  I don’t want to drive by the Post Office.

Me:  Well we’re coming up on it.  (Trying to make her laugh)  Don’t look at it.  Presley, don’t look at the Post Office.  There it is.  We are passing it now.  Don’t look at it.

(While trying to hold back a grin, P1 looks at the Post Office, then immediately looks down)

Me:  Aha Presley, you looked at the Post Office.

P1:  No I didn’t. I was just looking at the window.

By the time I got Presley to school, I had to walk her in, and she was fine.  I hate it when she cries.  I just want to hold her and make it all better, but I know in the long run I’ll pay for it.  I told this story to my father on Thursday morning, and I told him that she was so hard headed. He cracked up laughing saying he can remember going through the same things with me…. Surely not?

P.S.  For the first time ever Presley asked for cereal for dinner the evening after this took place, and you know what, she got her Dora cereal... Presley 3, Daddy 1 ????????????????????

Pointer II

Here is another picture of Pointing Pax:

A 3 Year Old's Logic

P1:  Daddy, I want some goldfish.
Me:  Okay, but we are eating dinner in a little bit so you can only have ten.
P1:  Okay Daddy.
(I put 10 goldfish in a ziploc bag)
P1:  Daddy, I want a lot.
Me:  No Presley, we're about to eat.
P1:  (starts crying) But I want a lot of goldfish.
Me:  Presley, you can have ten or zero.
P1: (Crying even more now) But I do.
Me:  Presley, you can only have 10 because we are about to eat, and I don't want you to be full so you can eat your dinner.
P1:  But I don't wanna eat dinner.  My tummy is just full. (Still crying, by the way)
Me:  So Presley, your tummy is too full to eat dinner, but you're crying because you want more goldfish?
P1:  (Still crying)  yeeeeeeesssssssssssss.

Pointer

Paxten is really starting to interact with us more and more.  The newest thing she is doing now is pointing with a single finger to what she wants and making an "EEHHHHH" or a "DAT" sound while she is eating.  I think she is smart, but then again I also think she is (insert any positive adjective here).
The picture above does not do the story justice.  She was pointing to what she wanted, but she was waiving her hand while she was pointing, so you can't really tell in this picture at all, but at least you have an idea.

Grass Skirt

Presley often times comes home from school with grass in her hair, grass on her clothes, grass in her shoes, etc., and I never thought too much about it because I just figured that is what happens when kids play outside.
I went to pick Presley up from school early one day last week, and she was running and playing outside.  I love watching her play.  Especially when she doesn't know I'm watching.  No matter how bad the world is, I think if I could always go watch 3-5 year olds playing in a school yard, I would immediately feel better.  They are still all so innocent without a care in the world.  When I first pulled up she was rounding a corner and running as fast as her little legs would take her through the yard and chasing two boys.  (I'll have to deal with that later.)  I sat there and watched her like a hawk with a bird's eye view for about 10 minutes before I went inside to get her.
When I went to pick her up, I talked to her teacher:
Me:  I was watching her play.  I love watching her play.
Teacher:  Oh Presley is so sweet.  Whenever they play "house" she always wants to be the baby.
Me:  Really?
Teacher:  Oh yea.  We see her lying down in the school yard all the time because they are playing house and she is the baby.

I guess I know how she gets all of that grass on her now.

Presley 2, Daddy 0

Recently right HERE I wrote about Presley out smarting daddy.  Well it happened again:

P1:  Daddy I'm finished.
Me:  You're finished eating?
P1:  Yes.  What's for dessert?
Me:  Presley we don't have any dessert.
P1:  Are the brownies in there all gone? (Pointing to a tupperware full of brownies)
Lora:  She's smarter than you.

Brown Eyed Girl

Me:  Presley, your eyes look so pretty and brown and big this morning!
P1:  Yea, they're growing up.
Me:  What?
P1 They're growing up.
Me:  Your eyes?
P1:  Yes.

=)

"She's a smart girl."

Paxten was sick all of last week, and we had to take her to the doctor's office two different times.  On her second visit, the doctor had to swab her nose to test her for the flu.  (It came back negative)  In case you don't know, this involves sticking what looks like a very long q-tip up her nose to get some mucus/snot out to be tested.  Neither of my daughters has ever cared for this test because they stick the swabber pretty far up the nose.
So the nurse lays Pax down and pulls out the q-tip swab.
The second Pax sees the swab she grabs it out of the nurse's hand.
So the nurse takes it from her, and Lora holds Pax's arms down.
Realizing she lost her main defense, her arms, Paxten puckers up her lips as big as possible trying to block her nasal passage.
Nurse:  "(Laughing) Wow. I can honestly say I have never seen a kid do that before.  She's a smart girl."

Smart, probably, but funny, definitely.  =)

Presley 1, Daddy 0

On the way to the doctor's office on Wednesday the following conversation took place:

P1:  Daddy are there any more hash browns left?
Me:  No Presley, you ate them all.
P1:  I'm still hungry Daddy.
Me:  Presley, after your doctor's appointment, if you’re still hungry, we can go get some more food. Okay?
P1:  The doctor's office doesn't have food?
Me:  No Presley, they don’t.
P1:  Why?
Me:  Because they see sick kids, and they don't give people food.
P1:  Daddy, they have suckers.  Suckers are food.
Me:  You're right.  I'll get you a sucker at the doctor's office.

Fun Car Ride Home

After I picked up Presley from school on Thursday, all three of the following conversations took place on the way home, and I thought they were all gems:

The first one took place as I was walking Presley to the car:

Me:  Hey Presley, I got you a surprise at home.

P1:  What color is it?

Me:  (laugh out loud) What color is it?  You don't want to know what it is?

P1:  Is it pink?

Me:  No, it's red.

P1:  Oh.......what is it?

Me:  It's an easel.

P1:  (flapping her arms like a bird) Easels flew to Texas. (plus more gibberish I couldn't fully understand)

Me:  Presley, it's an easel, not an eagle.

The second one took place after she and I picked up the pizza for that night's dinner.

Me:  Presley, here's a bread stick.

P1 (grabbing it):  It's too hot daddy.

Me:  No it's not.

P1:  Yes it is.

Me:  Fine, give it to me.

(After she gave it to me, I took two bites off of it)

P1:  No daddy! ! ! ! Blow it off! ! Don't bite it off! !

(She wanted me to blow on it to cool it off and give it back to her.)

Finally, after I unloaded her from the car and we were in the garage.

P1:  Mommy's car is dark black.

Me:  Dark black?  I didn't know dark black was a color.

P1:  Yes, and your car is light black.

Me:  Presley, both of our cars are black.

P1:  Your car is light black.

Me:  Presley, my car is dirty.  Mommy just got her car washed.  That is why it is so clean and new looking.

P1:  Daddy, your car is old.

WHY ? ? ? ? ?

I've always heard stories of kids getting to their "why" stage, but to me it never seemed like it would be that big of a deal.  I'm starting to understand.  Presley's thing is to ask why, then follow it up with a "why (insert what you just said here)."  Here are two normal conversations Presley and I had on Wednesday:

P1:  Why did Mommy get a new car?
Me:  Because her car is in the shop.
P1:  Why is it in the shop?
Me:  Because we are getting the air conditioner fixed.
P1:  Why are you getting the air conditioner fixed?
Me:  Because it's broken.
P1:  Why is it broken?
Me:  Because it stopped working.
P1:  Why did it stop working?
Me:  Because sometimes things just stop working.
P1:  Why sometimes things just stop working?
Me:  Because they just do.
P1:  Why do they just do?

Later that day while at the doctor's office:

P1:  Why is there not a movie on?
Me:  Because it is turned off.
P1:  Why is it turned off?
Me:  Because they didn't turn it on.
P1:  Why didn't they turn it on?
Me:  I don't know Presley.
P1:  Why don't you know?
Me:  Because I don't work here.
P1:  Why don't you work here?

Presley's Present

I picked up Presley from school the day after Valentine’s Day and she was coloring the picture above:
Me:  Oh Presley, that is so pretty.  Is this for Daddy?
P1:  No, it's for mommy.
Me:  But it's so pretty can Daddy have it?
P1:  Mommy.
Me:  Are you sure it's not for Daddy?
P1: Mommy.
Me:  Presley, I have some veggie chips and a juice box for you in the car and you can have them if you give this to Daddy?
P1:  Where is it?
Me:  In the car.
(We get to the car; I load her in her carseat)
P1 (Seeing the veggie chips and juice box sitting on the center console):  My veggie sticks, my juicey.
Me:  Presley, who is this picture for?
P1:  Mommy.
Me:  Well then I guess you don't get any veggie sticks or juice then.
P1 (Blank stare at me for 3 long seconds):  Here Daddy, I made this for you.

She got her veggie chips and "juicey," and I got my picture.

Fake Cough

P1 loves taking medicine right now.  For a while she had a cough with congestion, etc., and almost every night she got some sort of cough medicine to help her sleep.  Since the snow days, she has been healthy and not needed any medicine..... That doesn't mean she hasn't tried though:
P1 (fake coughing):  Daddy, I'm sick.  I need medicine.
Me:  Presley, that is the biggest fake cough I've ever heard.
P1 (fake coughing again): No it's not. I'm coughing.
Me:  Presley, that isn't a real cough.  I can tell.  You're not getting any medicine.  You're not sick.
P1:  I'm a little bit sick.
Me:  No you aren't.  That is a fake cough isn't it?
P1:  Yea!!!!
Me:  Okay... silly girl.
Now she does a fake cough all the time and laughs when I call her on it.
Fast forward to Monday morning.  Paxten woke up with a real cough and congestion:
P2: (real cough)
P1: Daddy, what are you doing?
Me:  I'm giving Paxten some medicine.
P1:  Daddy, Paxten's not sick.  Paxten is doing a fake cough.
Me:  Presley, Paxten doesn't know how to do a fake cough.  That is a real cough.
P1:  Yea, she did this (fake coughing noises while covering her mouth).
Me:  She did do that, but it was a real cough.
P1:  Oh.

For all you Major Doctors out there reading this blog, rest assured that P1 did not get any cough medicine that morning either.

Sneaky Bird

There is no way I am going to do this conversation justice, but I loved it on so many levels, so I am going to try.  A little background:  this took place inside the house sitting on the couch, and the feather in question was from a down blanket that was also on the couch:

P1: Daddy, me and mommy found a feather.
Me:  You did?
P1:  Yes, it was from a bird.
Me: It was?
P1 (flapping her arms like a bird): He was doing this and it fell out.
Me:  It fell out of the bird's wing?
P1:  Yes, it was an old feather.
Me:  An old feather fell out of the bird’s wing?
P1:  Yes, it was old. He didn't need it any more.
Me:  Did you see the bird?
P1:  I saw the feather.
Me:  But did you see the bird?
P1:  No.
Me:  Well how did it get in here?
P1:  When we went to the park, he came in here.  He said, "knock, knock" and came in and it fell out of his wing.
Me:  The bird opened the door himself?
P1:  Yes, and he dropped two feathers.
Me:  Two feathers? Where is the other feather?
P1 (pointing under the entertainment center): It's under there.
Me:  Can I see it?
P1:  I can't reach it. It's under there.
Me:  Show me.
P1 (looking under the entertainment center): Hey there's a purple car under there.  Daddy, can you get it?
Me:  Yes, but where is the feather?
P1:  The feather turned into the purple car.
Me:  Oh wow.
P1:  Yes.

When I have conversations like that with my 3 year old, especially on days like Sunday when the weather was perfect, and we did family stuff all day, I think about how wonderful life is; however, at the same time, I think about how much it has changed in my short 30 years, and I worry about what her life will be like 30, 50, 70 years from now.  The earth is changing so fast, and we are going to run out of water and food and oil, etc. as the population increases.  I just hope the world is a better place in the future than it is now, just like all parents do.  Like the old saying goes, we didn't inherit the earth from our parents; we borrowed it from our kids. I hope she has a lot of days like Sunday with her family many years from now... and yes, I know mom, worrying about it is pointless.

Happy V Day 2K11 From P1

                             

Pillow Post

Me (I put my head on Presley):  You're my pillow, good night Presley.
P1:  No I'm not.
Me:  Shhhhh Presley, I'm trying to go night-night on my pillow.
P1: Your pillow is talking because I'm talking.

Life is Like a Box of Tissues

This is kind of a part two to the Baby, No! post.  Once again, Presley was closer to Paxten than I was.  I was sitting on the couch and Presley was sitting in her chair watching television.  Paxten was at the other side of the room and had knocked down a box of tissues and was taking the tissues out.  Here’s what happened:

Me:  Presley, will you take that box of tissues away from Paxten?

P1 (as she got up): Okay daddy.

(About that time mommy walked into the room)

P1 (as she sat back down in her chair):  Mommy, will you take that box of tissues away from Paxten?

Almost P2!

Paxten is not walking yet, but she is awfully close.  Here is a video of her walking with a little help from her friends:

My Tummy's Full

Presley eats until her "tummy's full," but instead of just telling us that her tummy is full, she lifts up her shirt and shows us that "her tummy's full," and it does always appear to be full.  Last week one night after she had eaten 1.5 bowls of spaghetti and drank all of her juice, she let us know that she was finished because her "tummy's full.”  Here is what followed:
Me:  Presley, are you sure you’re finished?
P1:  Yes, daddy, my tummy's full. (Lifting up her shirt for a second time)
Me:  Okay.  Presley, can daddy eat the rest of your spaghetti?
P1:  Daddy! ! ! ! !   Your tummy is already full.
Me:  No it’s not.  I haven’t eaten yet.
P1:  Yes, it is.  I’ll show you.
P1 (after she walked over to me and lifted up my shirt): See Daddy, your tummy IS full.

I was sucking in as she lifted up my shirt, and I really hadn’t eaten yet, but apparently my tummy still appeared to be “full.”  I need to go on a diet.

Dora the Explorer Cereal

Presley eats Dora the Explorer cereal sometimes for breakfast.  Think Regular Captain Crunch, but in the shape of stars with a touch of cinnamon.  It's good. I had a bowl myself yesterday morning.  Yesterday Paxten was feeding herself the usual dried fruit yogurt bites for breakfast, and I decided to put a Dora cereal star in front of her.  I guess she liked it because she let out the loudest cackle and laugh about 2 seconds after she put it in her mouth.  I probably didn't win parent of the day yesterday.

P1 Can Count To Five...

... but when I laid her across my lap on her back and told her I was going to ask her a question, and if she got it right she would get a kiss, but if she got it wrong I would tickle her, and I told her to count to 5, she started laughing and said: 
"1...... um... he he he he... um... 3.....he he he he."
She got tickled a lot during that game last night.  She either did not want a kiss from daddy or she wanted to be tickled. =)

No, Baby!

There are a lot of things that Paxten can’t play with because she puts everything in her mouth.  Sometimes, if Presley is closer to Paxten than I am, I’ll ask Presley to take whatever it is away from Paxten and bring it to me. Recently, whenever I’ve asked Presley to take something away from Paxten, as Presley takes it away from her, she yells, “NO, BABY!”  It isn’t a loud yell, and it doesn’t hurt Paxten’s feelings; however, I don’t like it when Presley does this.  Keeping all of this in mind, the following conversation took place yesterday when Paxten grabbed one of Presley’s old goldfish-less Ziploc sandwich bags and started crawling around with it:

Me:  Presley, can you please take that plastic bag away from Paxten?

P1:  Okay.

Me:  Wait, wait, wait, Presley?

P1:  What?

Me:  When you do it, don’t yell “No baby” to her.  Okay?

P1:  Okay.

Me:  Thank you.

P1 (as she grabs the plastic bag out of Paxten’s hand):  YES, BABY!

P1 (looking at me): I said “yes.”

P1:  Daddy, why are you laughing?

Smiley

My nickname for Presley when she was a baby was "Bug," and I have no idea where that came from other than it was a term of endearment.  She didn't do anything to warrant that name.  She was just my "Bug."  My nick name for Paxten; however is a direct result of her actions.  She. Always. Smiles. Hence, “Smiley!”  I love my Bug and Smiley.

Frog Legs

Today we are all home again because of the ice/snow.  Lora and I both have the ability to work from home so we take turns watching the girls and working.  Unfortunately, I can only work when I am not watching the girls.  Lora; however, will go in the room to watch the girls, but she'll take her computer with her.  Today, while Lora was in the same room with P1 and P2, supposedly watching them, Presley decided to color her legs with her "water-safe-fake-cup-cake-decorating-markers."  Granted, mommy did wash it off pretty effortlessly, but not before I snagged the following pics:

My Ankle Hurts

P1: (scratching her hand) My ankle hurts.
Me: That's not your ankle.
P1: Uh hu, it's my finger ankle.
Me: You mean your knuckle?
P1: Yea.

Back to School

Yesterday Presley went to school for the first time since last Monday.  I guess she liked/got used to staying home with us during all the snow and ice.  Before yesterday, she had been home 6 days in a row and 8 of the last 9 days.  This morning’s conversation when I woke her up:
P1: I don't want to go to school today.
Me: Presley, you have to go to school today so you can learn.
P1: But I went yesterday. One time is enough. I don't want to go too much.
Me: Presley, I understand that you don't want to go to school, and I love you, but you have to go to school to learn.
P1:  (after coughing several times) I can't go to school today, I'm sick. (More coughing)
Me: Presley, you're going to school today.  Besides, it is supposed to snow tonight so you may not go to school tomorrow.
P1: I don't want to go to school today because there is snow at my school.
Me: There is snow at your school right now?
P1: Yes, a little bit.  I can't go to school when there is snow.

Whenever I talk to Presley about going to school (or doing anything for that matter) I always try to make it about her.  She needed to go to school so "she could learn."  I could have easily said she needed to go to school so "mommy and daddy can work," but she doesn't understand completely that mommy and daddy are working to provide for her, and I don't want her to ever think mommy and daddy are choosing to work instead of being with her.

Snow Pics

Here are some pics of the girls during the snow week.  This is mainly for those of you at GloriousGayDays who don't have a facebook account.

Random Quotes, Thoughts, etc.

Me: Presley, go get a pair of socks, and I'll put them on you.
P1: (after she grabbed a pair) Are these socks clean?
Me: Yes.
P1: Who cleaned them?
Me: Mommy washed them.
P1: Mommy always cleans the clothes.  Not daddy.

Me: Mommy, you and Presley get out of here.  I've got to go potty and shave in the shower.
P1:  POTTY IN THE SHOWER! ! ! ! NOOOOOO!
Me: LOL LOL LOL LOL LOL  I meant "Potty (comma) and then shave in the shower."

Whenever you get on you knees in the crawling position and look at P2 and say "I'm gonna get you," she'll take off crawling away from you as fast as possible.  It is a fun game to play with her right now.

While I was getting Presley dressed for school this morning:
P1: Daddy, I don't want to wear a dress.  Tall Paxten always wears dresses.
Me: Who is "Tall Paxten?"
P1: She goes to my school.
Me: Oh, not Paxten, your sister?
P1: No. She's baby Paxten.
(There is a girl named Paxten that also goes to Presley's school)

Presley got a Tinkerbell kitchen for her birthday that she just loves.  She knows two boys named Gavin.  One goes to her school and one is a neighbor.  Here is the conversation that followed after she opened the Tinkerbell Kitchen:
Mommy: Presley, look, a Tinkerbell kitchen! !
P1: Who gave this to me?
Mommy: Gavin from school.
P1: Oh. I love Gavin from school! !

New Friend

Last night we went over to a neighbor's house to watch the Super Bowl.  P1 had a lot of fun playing with the older kids.
Me: Presley are you having fun?
P1: Yes Daddy.  I am playing with the tall girl. I don't know her name.  She is this tall. Like this. (Holding her hand as high above her head as she could)