From the Mouths of Babes.......

Haven after a "sidewalk face plant" this past summer. She is fine now. The sidewalk? Now that's a different story.....

I had some fun,..... (should I say amusing?) moments with my almost 5 year old today. First we went to my Plastic Surgeon - (free plug here.... www.drstrock.com - Dr. Louis Strock. Who is one of the BEST Plastic Surgeons in Fort Worth, TX., if not "THE best!"

Anyways, Haven was playing on the floor in the doctor's office. She usually brings her large, purple bag filled with webkinz and makes up some drama with each animal having very big attitude and very big adventure. I sat in the chair, having just donned the all too familiar cloth gown, and read a magazine with one hand, while trying to keep the top of my gown closed with the other. I don't know why I bother. Dr. Strock has seen me so many times in the last year, he could play "pin the nipple" on my chest in the dark! The fact that I do not have any nipples yet, only means he will be seeing a lot more of me in the future.

Haven is now spinning on the heel of her shoe, her arms wide open and making a loud, "Zhoooom!" sound as she pushes herself into yet another unbalanced turbo twirl. I am the first to admit I am not a very patient person and it takes only about 15 of these "Zhoooooms!" before I slowly bring my hands down and stare blankly at her from over the top of the pages.

"Haven, can you please stop," I ask her softly.

She continues to spin - her "Zhoooom!" a little louder than the last one.

"Haven?" I say,.... my voice hanging like a question.

Another "Zhooooooom!" rips from her mouth.

"Haven?" My voice raises a bit and then trails off threateningly.

"Fine!" Haven freezes mid twirl and shrugs her shoulders.

Resuming my reading, my eyes search for where I left off in the magazine. Behind the pages, I can hear Haven talking.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" She begins. "I'm sorry, but we won't be having any fun tricks today,...."

I lower the magazine to see who she's talking to. She has bowed low and is addressing her webkinz who sit perched on the doctor's rolly stool with the leather circle cushion.

"I have been told there will be no tricks allowed,....." She again bows and then flashes me an angry look. "The mean giant over there has spoken!"

Where she gets these things is beyond me. I admit that I am dramatic (sometimes,... okay a lot!) but I do not walk around the house with a booming voice, "Ladies and gentlemen! It is now time to come to the kitchen table for a meal! The big, mean giant has spoken! Cease with your playing and come now!"

I really need to get her on Barney. She would be perfect. She has just the right amount of drama as well as the perfect amount of flair for Mayberry. She says things to me that sound like Ron Howard himself as he peers up into Andy Griffith's face, freckles innocently dotting his fair features.

"I know I can't have this cookie Mama," Haven will say, coyly ducking her head and batting her eyelashes at me. As her little hand holds out a cookie, she'll add, "but I got it for you because I love you so much."

Nice try kid. Haven knows as well as I do that I would not take that cookie, eat it and let her watch from the sidelines - dejected and cookieless. All I can say is,.... she's really good.

Our next stop of the day was Walmart. As I browsed through the young girl's department, Haven was watching the employees as they redecorated for the holidays. To our left, they were redressing mannequins and Haven was fascinated by the whole process.

"Look Mama!" Haven's voice suddenly broke through the peaceful Christmas music playing around us. "That naked person has no nipples just like you!"

Every head within hearing distance turned to look at us. The grandma looking lady (most likely shopping for grandkids) looked over at us with apprehension. Possibly her hearing aid had failed her? Did that child just say nipples? The man at the end of the hunting aisle had turned and was squinting our way. Using his trained, sniper vision - his piercing glare was attempting to see through my blouse to know whether or not this was true. The Walmart employees just stood there staring. I could almost hear them thinking, "Why would this woman have no nipples? And why would the word nipples even be in this child's vocabulary?"

There are many times when a mother just knows it is time to check out of a store and head home. This was one of those times.

When we got home, Haven wanted to skate. This is one of the many milestones in a child's life. Conquering the monkey bars is another one we have to look forward to. I buckled her safety skates on and brought my laptop outside to watch her. She failed horribly at trying to "skate" up our driveway (which is slightly uphill,) and she finally collapsed on the cement, breathing heavy from exertion.

"Why am I not going anywhere?" She yelled in frustration.

I explained how she first needed to learn how to skate and actually move forward before she tried to skate up a hill. She walked to the end of the driveway on the grass and began gliding down. She was doing pretty good, but I was having problems viewing anything on my screen in the sunlight, so I ducked back inside the house. Next thing I knew, Haven was making that sound where you're not sure if they're laughing or crying. It sounds like crying but has that breathy sound of laughter too.

I ran outside to see her sitting on the driveway, tears running down her face.

"What happened?" I asked her, pulling her to her feet.

"I fell and my knee came up and hit me in the chin!" She stammered. Her chin was pink where I imagined her knee had clunked. "And then my teeth knocked together and bit my tongue!" She wailed, struggling to get her skates off.

That,... I wish I'd seen. Just by her wildly, gesturing reenactment, it looked hilarious. Where is my video camera when I really need it?

"Did I crack open my tongue?" She asked, sticking her tongue out all the way for me to inspect.

"No sweetie, you didn't," I assure her, kissing her cheek. "But let's go inside and have a cookie, okay?"

Forgotten are Haven's recent injuries. Forgotten is the fact that half the shoppers at Walmart now know me as the "the one who has no nipples." Forgotten is how the mean giant had outlawed any fun tricks in the doctor's office. Forgotten is everything but the pure happiness of the promise of a cookie. Cookies are good that way.