Tommy: Maggie, what do you know about me?
Maggie: I know you love minecraft. I know you like to be on the iPad every day. I know you hate it when I bother you. I know you don’t wash your armpits.
Tommy: One of those things isn’t true…sometimes when you bother me I kind of want you to. STOP! STOP! STOP! STOP!
Maggie has hit that most wonderful of developmental phases: death questions. Tonight she was thinking or our friend Leslie who died a few months ago at the age of 21.
“What happens when people die when they aren’t supposed to [like leslie]? How do they get to heaven? Right away? She just spawned there? Is she in Bible stories? Will they write a new bible story about her? Will they give her a house? Will Jesus give her food?”
I asked if she was worried about these thoughts of dying. She said “No. When it’s time for me to die I will be ready. This probably worries Tommy, right? He’s scared of more things than me. Girls are not scared of as much.”
Maggie: Princesses like to be polite and take dirty things. Princesses are always happy.
Me: Your tummy hasn’t been hurting as much has it?
Maggie: Well, yes. Sometimes I just let it hurt and play through the pain.
Maggie on the importance of choosing a boyfriend carefully: Yeah, I may give them a test.
Tommy facing an unpleasant task: Well actually I’m happy to do it right now. Like I always say, ‘The first the better.’ Well no, I never actually said that before. That doesn’t make sense.
Maggie: I’ve liked Disney princesses all my life ever since I been living with you.
Tommy, looking at some beginning reader books: They look like teenagers. . . But they talk like 3 year olds.
Bathroom! Please! Can’t I just go to the bathroom without someone yelling for me and then having a meltdown because I didn’t answer? I’m just talking pee here. I KNOW it’s too much to ask for a legit poop break.