Small Fry has a new interest in traffic signals. And in telling me how to drive. Today on a short trip to Publix, she asked me over and again..."Red is for stop, right mama? Red means go. Green means stop? No, Orange is for stop. Mama, that light was green. You didn't stop. The policeman will get you." I continued to answer her questions and explain my choices until I began to weary. Then, after a few minutes of silence, she says, as if it just dawned on her, "I am not driving." And all was well in minivan land once again. If only Cutie Pie could have a similar revelation when in the passenger's seat. Alas, he just cannot give up the wheel. Which actually suits me fine. Makes it much easier to read a magazine or flip through the radio stations.
Small Fry has been facing another issue of import lately. Since her sister told her that she was once inside mama's tummy, she has been living in dread that we might make her go back there. This brings her to tears a couple of times a day. No matter how often we reassure her (and mama!) that this will never, ever happen, she strongly fears that somehow we're going to stuff her back in there and leave her in the dark. Regardless of faces like angels, sisters can be a bit on the sinister side sometimes, can't they?