The kid is at it again. I know I write about her a lot, but I just can’t get enough of her. I don’t have my own children — as I’ve shared before — and so in some ways, she feels like mine. Just indulge me.
So I’m on the phone with my sister the other day. I hear Piper talking in the background.
“What’s she doing?” I ask.
“Oh, she’s got this plastic jar of wooden beads. She wants to make a necklace,” Sister replied. Then she warns, “Piper, you need to hold that with BOTH hands; you don’t want to drop it.”
We chat for about 30 more seconds, then
CRRASSHHH!!
CLAT-T-T-T-T-T-T-TER!!!
My sister sighs.
“The beads?” I say.
“Yes,” Sister says, heavy under her breath. “The beads.”
Then, the instruction:
“Okay, Piper, you need to pick them up, please.”
“Mommy!” Piper protests.
“Please pick them up.”
We are stiffling giggles, because — and who knows why, really — something about little kid angst is just funny, face it.
Now we’re whispering to each other.
“Is she doing it?”
“Yes.”
“Well, that’s good.”
We resume our interrupted conversation. Another 30 seconds go by, then
“MOMMMMY!”
Oh, the utter anguish of it all!
“Yes, Piper?”
“ADULTS ARE S’POSED TO HELP WIDDLE KIDS!!!!!!”
That’s it. We’re gone. I’m forced to hang up, shrieking with laughter.
This is adorable. How cute!