This morning Piper and I made blueberry muffins. She likes to “help” by measuring and mixing the dry ingredients and tossing in the fresh blueberries. But when I start melting butter, Piper runs from the room. “It smells like snot! It looks like it, too.” She’s a classy girl, I tell you. And who doesn’t love melted butter? Come on. It’s liquid gold.
After breakfast muffins, Sissy was dressing her American Girl in a new ice skating costume her grandmother sent. Apparently ice skating is big in pretend overpriced doll world. The outfit is adorable, though, and it has all the right accessories:
Piper grabbed the ear muffs and put them on the doll. “That’s better, isn’t?” she asked. “You were cold. Now you’ll be toasty in your ear muffins!” Yummy.
The problem with one of Piper’s verbal mishaps is that we spend the rest of the day egging her on. We find any reason possible to get her to say the cute thing she just said again. The days of little Piper are numbered. We’re holding on tight.
Piper’s papa once relabeled all the lemonade in the fridge with a black marker “lemolade” because Piper declared it so. You weren’t allowed to call it anything else. We still don’t.
Ear muffins and lemolade become part of our vernacular until I can’t remember what we said before Piper changed our lives and our language. We’re better for it. Or at least more entertaining.
Here are more words you didn’t know you needed.