Wednesday, September 28, 2011

Number Three

So, I realized a couple of weeks ago that I rarely write about Amelia. I should do something about that so she doesn't grow up, find this blog, and require more therapy than she'll already need after reading it.

Amelia is six going on 76. She has her moody, teenage like moments, but mostly she's like an old lady who doesn't give a crap about what people think anymore. Also, one who smoked three packs a day. Seriously, for such a tiny kid she has a deep, gravelly voice. Like Kathleen Turner in size 4T.

Her favorite food in the world is gingersnaps. Hard, old fashioned gingersnaps.

Speaking of food, she'll only eat things that are highly processed and/or white.

She has an obsession with cats. She will be the crazy cat lady someday. Her most coveted Christmas present last year was a stuffed cat with magnetic nipples and three kittens with magnetic lips. This year she wants both a basket of stuffed Siamese kittens and stuffed versions of our actual cats. In case the real ones die. Her reasoning, not mine.

I bought her a set of Amelia Bedelia books when she started reading fluently. At first she liked them, but by the end of the series she asked me to throw them out. When I asked why she said, "Amelia Bedelia is DUMB. People are going to think I can't follow simple directions because I have the same name."

She rarely pretends that she is the mother of her dolls. She's always the older sister. Her reason? Because moms have to do all the work but a sister just plays with them.

If I'd allow it, she'd wear pink cowgirl boots and short shorts every day.

She's irrationally worried about her feet stinking. So worried, in fact, that I used it to my advantage in getting her to drink Kefir at breakfast. I wanted her to drink it because she gets almost no protein in her diet (see processed and/or white foods above). But I told her that it has things in it that prevent stinky feet. Guess who drinks a big cup of Kefir every morning?

She loves to watch Rugrats, but whenever Angelica has been on for more than two minutes she usually throws the remote and storms out of the room.

She has no qualms about passing gas. Loudly. In public. If someone says anything about it, she responds with, "Get over it. Everyone farts. I said excuse me."

I have to go to great lengths to avoid the lingerie section of any store we go to. If she sees a bra, she will have a meltdown over the fact that I refuse to buy her one. This has been going on since she was three.

Maybe not so coincidentally, she has decided she wants to be Dolly Parton. She saw a commercial for Dollywood, and then announced that Dolly Parton was the prettiest lady she'd ever seen. And she has her own amusement park. And breasts. Dolly is now her unofficial mentor.

Both her kindergarten teacher and her first grade teacher have written nearly identical comments on her progress reports. "What she lacks in size, she makes up for in volume and bossiness."

That's my girl!

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