While in the shower today, Froggy noticed a pink birthmark on my back.
Froggy: What's that mom?
FM: A birthmark, or a pink mole.
Froggy: That's disgusting.
Froggy is quite the fashionista. Yesterday she was walking around in the buff, while wearing a wool winter cap. She was dancing on the veranda in this ridiculous outfit, while I was singing a silly little song. FD came outside and Froggy said, "Daddy, close the door, I'm getting cold." Yes, that's right, close the door to the house, because she's getting cold outside.
On our walk today, Froggy pointed to a flower and said, "That's lupen." She pointed to another flower in our yard and said, "Those are baby-blue-eyes."
Froggy was hugging her polar bear during treatment today. So I asked her, "Where do polar bears live?" And she said, "Antiarcticaca." Close. Her stupid mommy had to look it up online to recall if Polar Bears live in the Arctic, or Antarctic. And in case you're also not as smart as a three year old, it's the Arctic and they like to eat baby seals. Cool.
Yesterday, Froggy asked, "Where do dogs go when they get old?" I was caught off guard and didn't know if this was a question about mortality, or what, so I just probed. "What do you mean, when they get old, Buddy is old and he still lives with us?" Froggy looked at me like I hadn't answered her question and said, "No, but where do they GO when they get old." And because I really didn't feel ready for a death question yet, I just kept repeating, "Buddy's old and he's not going anywhere." Atleast not yet. And when our 12 year old Pomeranian does "go" then I'll be more prepared for how to answer my curious girl.
At bedtime, Froggy always asks me to tell her a story. I like it when she comes up with the theme. So the other night, when she said, "tell me a story," I said, "About what?" She replied, "Tell me a story about a little mouse named Rotten Egg, because he smells like butt." And I'll leave you with that.