Briar: Mom, I’m so sorry that I took a cookie from the plate that time.
(Easily 6 months ago)
Briar: Mom, I am so, so sorry that I cleaned the tv.
(1 month ago, with a wipe, after explicit directions not to clean it)
Briar: Mom, I promise never to clean the tv the fireplace or talk about your body like that again.
Avery: Mom, I promise that I not gonna plug out the vacuum ever again, ya know dat?
(Total BS, she cannot control herself.)
Briar: I was thoughting about eating the egg, but I didn’t ’cause it wasn’t cooked and you said it’ll make me sick. Is that ok, that I was just thoughting but not doing?
Me: That’s right, there not usually any harm in just thinking about things.
Avery: And you know I was just thinking that the playdough is a kind of cake but you can’t eat it ’cause it’s playdough and you could get sick and get the red stuff if you eat the playdough that’s a cake but not really cause it’s playdough, ya know dat?
(Red stuff is code for throwing up, it’s a long story involving fruit punch and too many cookies)
Briar: Ya don’t eat playdough.
Ave: You know dat, mom? No eating playdough.
Briar: Mom, remember that time I got the red stuff?
Ave: Yeah, she got the red stuff that time.
Briar: I’ll not do anything to get the red stuff ever agin.
Ave: Ever again she won’t.
Me: Nap. Now.
Briar: Now what?
Ave: Nappin’ now, Bri.
Me: Good girls. Naptime.
I walked out of the room to the whispers of two sisters and a sleeping baby.
I think the preservation of these exchanges in my memory is exactly the thing that prevents me from being able to keep track of where I set the brush, my car keys and the checkbook.
Are you a misplacer of things and keeper of memories?