Wednesday, January 12, 2011

Tonight we learned the word "short-cut."

Calling Evie to the bathroom to brush her teeth... I hear her scattering about calling back, "I'm coming!"
I sneak through the door in her bedroom which (ah, the fun design of an old house) leads to the pantry which then opens on the other side into the kitchen. She stops in the kitchen to ask me, "What? I was giving daddy a hug!"
I reply, "That's fine... just c'mon. Go through here and follow me to the bathroom."
Evie knows this path but doesn't use it often. She looks at me temporarily confused.
"C'mon," I coax,"Its a short-cute."
"What?"
"C'mon. Short-cut, let's go!"
"Now? A short-cut?" she asks.
"Yeah, now, we gotta brush your teeth."
I push Evie into the bathroom and slide over her step-stool. Instead of getting up on it under the sink, she sits down.
"C'mon Evie!" I think she is stalling or being silly,"We are brushing teeth, get up!"
"What? Oh. I thought you were doing a short-cut."
I pause.
I think.
"A haircut?!." I ask (she's only had me trim her hair twice and she only remembers the one recent time).
"Yeah!"

Too funny.

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