Tiny, spunky Emi with her tiny, sassy voice. Her “isms” are shorter and sweeter because her thoughts aren’t quite as lengthy as her brother’s yet… or maybe just because she can deliver a lot of punch in one short line! Some good Emi-isms of late:
I was in the kids’ bedroom at 4:30 this morning rocking the baby back to sleep. All had been quiet and still. Then, from her bed and in her sleep, Emi spoke up: “Me had enough of my bad brudder!” And then all was quiet and still again.
Emi pays special attention to the villains in cartoons and expresses a true desire for justice — and a fiery desire to straighten the bad guys out. Her thoughts on Tom of “Tom and Jerry”? “I would kick him in the butt! I’m a butt kicker!” On Captain Hook? “I would punch him in the face!” One day she said, “Mama, you know what I would do with that naughty wicked king? I would tie his feet up and throw him in the garbage!” For all her ferociousness, though, she sees through Cinderella’s stepsisters to what’s really (well, maybe) going on inside: “I think they is jealous of Cinderella because she gets to clean all the time.”
Emi has a love-hate relationship with her baby sister, Marsi, and spends a lot of time trying to rescue her “stuff” to high ground out of the baby’s reach. She’s pretty likely to call out in desperation: “Please, can somebody help me get away from the baby?” But another day she’ll be loving on Baby Marsi and say, ever-so-sweetly, “Mama, please can we keep this little ‘inja turtle baby?”
Emi is a hot/cold eater. Some days she’ll eat a whole cheeseburger. Then she’ll go two weeks refusing to eat anything but as much cold cereal, potato chips, and “nillava” bean yogurt as we’ll allow. She and her brother both consider themselves to be mini food critics (it’s the Blake coming out in them!). Yesterday, for instance, Emi told me she couldn’t eat the Kraft mac ’n’ cheese I’d made because it was “overdone.” Meat poses a problem for her — and I can relate because I remember it did for me, too, when I was little… like you get this great big hunk of meat in your mouth and the more you chew the bigger it seems to get and you’re afraid to try to swallow it because you might choke. But Emi’s finding a way around the whole problem. One day she announced proudly, “Daddy, I just gulped a whole meat down without even chewin’ it.”
One day I was trying to tell her something and she kept lifting her index finger to me and saying, “Mama, I’m on the phone right now.”
There is no doubt she keeps a close eye and ear on what I, her mother, do and say. One day she wondered, “Mama, why are you always writing lists up?” Another day: “Mom, do you have any friends in real life?” And a favorite — something she heard me say many times when we lived at the VX, in the land of once-a-week-mail-delivery and celebrating-small-victories-with-a-houseful-of-preschoolers — was when a very serious 3-year-old Emi announced to her 12-year-old cousin, Nate, “Tomorrow is a big day, Nate. It’s mail day.”
My kids are always coming up with ideas for how their dad and I can operate the family a little more smoothly. One day Emi suggested, “How ‘bout the grown-ups be in charge of the kids and the kids be in charge of the grown-ups?” Well… I kinda thought that’s what we already had going on.
© Tami Blake