Wednesday, June 25, 2014
Me: "Lois, do you want to go take a nap?"
Lois: "No, I'm fine."
Me: "I think Rompy wants to go take a nap."
She looks at me, looks at Rompy, babbles some words, then looks back at me again.
Lois: "Rompy fine."
If this happens I very often go sit on the stool next to her bed and just chat with her, rub her back, sing her songs, and whatever else pops into my head to help her go to sleep.
Last night, she decided we were going to chat.
Everything was fine right up until she looked over my shoulder and her eyes went wide.
"Oh, there he is!" she said, pointing directly behind me.
I looked behind me and she immediately said "Him gone."
She then started talking about "Man who not there," laid down, stuck her thumb in her mouth and went to sleep.
Me, on the other hand? I kept looking for the man who wasn't there.
Some days she'll walk up to me and start quoting the book. I take that as a "please go find this book and read it for me, my dearest father."
She's an adorable little bundle of awesome, she is.
An adorable little bundle of hilarity, awesomeness, and creepiness.