There was some debate around here about which Eliza stories to share. Do we share about the time she disappeared, and we found her in the neighbors’ doghouse? What about the time she wheeled herself, spica cast, wheelchair and all, into the pond at the local park? Or the time she got a popcorn kernel stuck in her ear, and we had to go to the ER to have it removed…
Suffice it to say that this girl has given us more than enough material to work with. But moms have their favorites, and I have a love/ hate relationship with a little tale from when she was three.
Across the street lived a sweet little neighbor boy, and Eliza was certainly sweet on him. There were some lingering hugs and maybe a smooch or two here and there. So Matt and I talked to her about saving her kisses for Mom and Dad.
Being three, but more importantly being Eliza, this redirection was not sufficient. She wanted to know why, and why again, and why some more, until we honestly weren’t sure why anymore ourselves. (This has happened to every parent of a three year old, at some point, but I’m not sure why.) Somewhere in the explanation, she pointed out that Mom and Dad kiss each other on the lips.
Anyway, a few days later, she said, “When I grow up, I’m gonna marry R—–.”
“Is he a good friend?” I asked. “What are some reasons you want to marry him?”
“I’m gonna marry him, so I can kiss him on the lips!”
Cue a new level of anxiety over her inevitable adolescence.