March 22, 2006

Some Conversations With Maisy

She is a surprising little person. She is such a sunshiney little thing, so pretty and prancy-aroundy and cheerful with her small but excrutiatingly CARRYING voice, so high-pitched and relentless that we have nicknamed her Duck Quacky. Somethimes we forget the inner Maisy, and can go for for days with no understanding that there is a fierce and willful thing behind the pale curls and perfectly round blue eyes. She's mighty. She is a small force of nature. She's just so fluffy that it's easy to forget. I am working hard to not forget, or this child is going to be ruling my life before she is ten. Next week, beautiful Maisy who was barely two when I started this blog will be FOUR. YEARS. OLD.

She's also--- like me, like her father, like her brother--- just a little bit...odd.

This morning we had a VERY sincere conversation. She came staggering down the steps in her pink cow long johns and crept up into my lap. I hit save and cuddled her close. She was very sleep and solemn.

Me: Good morning. I am so happy to see my little girl. I love you!
Her: I love you are my favorite mommy. But Mommy, don't forget. I am on Daddy's team.
Me; Well, that's a great team to be on, because your daddy is da bomb. Isn't Daddy da bomb?
Her: No. He's a horrible beast.
Me: *somewhat surprised* He is???
Her: Oh, yes. He never lets me do anyfing. Except there is one speck of nice in his brain. That's the piece that let me droozle the honey on my own sandwiches.

And then she hopped down and trotted off to find the horrible beast and tell him good morning.

OR like last night, at dinner, we were having a chat about whose fault it is that the cat is so dern fat.

Me: I blame certain small people who keep giving him food any time his bowl is empty.
Sam: I blame the cat---he asks, Mom. He keeps asking.
Scott: Well, you don't have to say yes. He can't open the bag and scoop out more food. I blame the short people with opposable thumbs.
Maisy: I blame the French.
Me: What? What did you say? Did you say you blame the French?
Maisy: Yes. I blame the French.
Scott: Well, they do like their sauces, the French.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOKAY. I have NO IDEA where that came from. But the cat IS fat, and while French WOMEN may never get fat, there is no bestselling book purporting the truth about French male felines. Perhaps some dude in a Chapeau is creeping in late at night and filling the cat's dish with foie gras and a nice cut of fillet with Bernaise. APPROPOS OF NOTHING: Did you know the literal translation for foie gras is "fatty liver?" I am thinking of heading to the courthouse and legally changing the cat's name to Foie Gras, because he is brownish and ruddy like a liver, and big enough to make three respectably sized cats.

But I cannot allow Maisy to go about blaming the cat's lard problem on FRANCE.... It used to be, whenever we saw the WARNER BROTHERS thing on a movie or whatnot, we would clap and hoot. But Warner sold Warner Books to a French company, and now we clap and hoot whenever we see anything French. Which, if we decide the CAT is fat due to French food we are going to have to clap and hoot every time he takes a bite, which means we will be clapping and hooting all the livelong day and night. Too exhausting.

I have decided to blame Germany...all the wursts, you understand.

MEANWHILE! I will have the B4B finalists for you TOMORROW. And may I say, I DO NOT envy DEBR of Red Shoe Ramblings., with 40+ entries to muck about with. I just finished reading the last one, and I could MAYBE narrow it to twenty. VIVA LA DELEGATION. LONG MAY DELEGATION REIGN!

Then Sarah Smiley, will have the unenviable task of choosing first, second and third place, and the winner will get a signed first edition of her book, GOING OVERBOARD

Posted by joshilyn at March 22, 2006 8:40 AM

Maybe you should buy this book for Maisy...

Posted by: Jocelyn at March 22, 2006 8:46 AM

Well, with blaming the French at least she'd be in good with those republicans on Capitol Hill that have it in for them too. I'd start worrying if she asks for "freedom fries".

Also? She sounds like she's almost too cute for words.

Posted by: Jessie at March 22, 2006 8:48 AM

Poor Schubert, he is JUST BLINKING you know, and it's all France's fault.

Could you ask her if the spider on her lunchbox is also France's fault? Inquiring minds wanna know.

Posted by: Mir at March 22, 2006 9:11 AM

"I blame it on France" almost made me snort coffee out my nose.

Note to self: Do NOT read Maisy stories while drinking beverages!!!

And the B4B thing? Night.Mare. But I'd rather have the nightmare of too many good ones to choose from than not enough, so I suppose that means I'm not allowed to whine. Dammit.

Posted by: DebR at March 22, 2006 9:15 AM

I ADORE Maisy stories. And samples. I must've played that chocolate hymn she sang awhile back about a kajillion times!

Posted by: Renee at March 22, 2006 9:58 AM

I think the whole internet just fell in love with Miss Maisy. Droozle? And I blame France? That's some kid you got there.

Posted by: Aimee at March 22, 2006 11:10 AM

Wurst idea yet.

Posted by: rams at March 22, 2006 11:16 AM

Honey, if she is blaming France at age 4, watch out the world isn't safe when she hits her tweens.

Posted by: Cele at March 22, 2006 11:39 AM

Can I blame the French for my obesely feline as well? Maybe the catfood is made in France? Of horsemeat, I'm sure.

You should practice yelling "Foie Gras, here, Foies Gras" before you actually go changing the poor porky beastie's name.

Posted by: Edgy Mama at March 22, 2006 2:07 PM

She did NOT say "I blame the French." You made that up. That is just too dern funny to be true.

Also, she cannot be four. She CANNOT. I forbid it. Tell her she must turn three again because that's all I can stand. Four! Just. Not. Possible.

Posted by: Amy-GO at March 22, 2006 3:52 PM

Too adorable. I hope I'm still blogging in ten years so I can write about stuff like this!! Adorable little girl there.

40 entries?? Boy, I'm glad I got my months mixed up!

Posted by: Autumn at March 22, 2006 5:34 PM

I'm with Deb on the snorting coffee reaction. A mocha valencia, so it was quite a snort. That was just too funny. I read it to my hubby, who said "They're obviously letting that child watch too much Fox Network News."

I just wrote about my silly boy as well - he's a decade older although like Maisy, has been entertaining from the get go. Here's a little bit of what you have to look forward to:

I so wanted to enter this month's B4B. I figured it was the ultimate challenge as I almost sent an entire list up in flames once with a military themed post. Well, it wasn't, really, and it wasn't my fault at all, but still, I was the one that brought the topic up, inadvertently.... sigh. Fortunately, however, I fell asleep on the night of the deadline, fell asleep right in the middle of Jon Stewart, I was THAT tired. I didn't wake up until 12:23 am. And it was gonna redeem my pyrotechnic past and everything. Ah well.

Posted by: Laume at March 22, 2006 8:53 PM

Add me to the coffee snorters. France? Goodness!

Although I suspect your hands are quite full already, I don't envy your future. I can only imagine what she'll come up with for arriving home after curfew.

Posted by: dragonfly at March 23, 2006 12:29 PM

OK, I am in with the snorting...mine was Diet Sprite. The bubbles were not fun, but so totally worth it, that I re-read that section as soon as the Paramedics left.

She is hilarious. Takes after her Mom, I think...

Also? "I blame it on France" is going to be my new catch phrase. If anyone asks me why, I will follow with, "Because Maisy says so".

I am so loving life right now. LOL

Posted by: Cyndi at March 23, 2006 5:59 PM

No. If I am going to quote her, I must do it correctly.

Now that the tears have cleared I can see it's "I blame the French". And I do. Cuz Maisy says so.

That's all there is to it.

Posted by: Cyndi at March 23, 2006 6:14 PM