She Has A Way With Words

Yesterday I heard a crash from my bedroom. More like a series of dull thuds,actually. Then crying. From Heidi. My girl who generally doesn't cry unless it's bad. I ran to get her, noted there was thankfully no blood, scooped her up and took her to the couch for comforting and an ice pack on her forehead which seemed to be growing. When the tears stopped I asked her what had happened and though I tried desperately not to, I couldn't help but laugh at the reply.

"Well, Momma, I was doing somersaults on your bed and decided I wanted to get off. So I did, only not so very gently."



A couple of weeks ago she was putting on her boots and had no sooner slipped one on than her foot came back out again. "There's a ugly bug in my boot!" she exclaimed as she took it out and threw it out the door. (Ugly bug is this Momma's highly technical term for the insects we seem plagued with every year in early summer. They're about two to three inches long, grey with an orange stripe right behind their heads. They spit orange stuff, ooze orange stuff when you squish them and lay orange eggs, but other than their natural inclination toward one of Heidi's favorite colors, they're not much appreciated around here.) "Silly bug" said Heidi with a laugh, "He thought that was a respectable place to be. He doesn't know that my boot is NOT a respectable place to be for a bug!"