Galloping and Running

While it is clear to anyone who reads this blog that our girls talk pretty frequently and openly about vaginas, they can still manage to say things that take me by surprise.  As in Julia's complaint, this morning, as she waited for a turn on the potty.  Something one would not generally expect to hear out of anyone's mouth: "Mama!  My vagina feels like it's DRILLING!"

The days are many lately on which I desperately wish that we had a second bathroom.  Morning rush hour with all four of us trying to brush teeth and use the toilet is getting way too chaotic.  I mean, nobody should have to go around with her vagina drilling while she's stuck waiting for a chance to pee.

Later in the morning, once all our bathroom needs were taken care of, Julia began her ritualistic gallop time.  To an fro between the living room and kitchen she went, until she suddenly stopped to make an important announcement.

JULIA: Mom?  Sometimes, when I gallop, I think about Daddy's favorite color, and I think about girls at school, and I think I like it better in a dress, but I don't want to SWITCH it.
ME: Switch what?
JULIA: Well, I think I like it better in a dress, but I don't want to switch it.
ME: Who do you like better in a dress?
JULIA: Girls at school.
ME: Which girls?
JULIA: Mama!  Made-UP girls!
ME: Oh.  So you're thinking about made-up girls wearing a dress at your school?
JULIA: Well, when I gallop, sometimes I think about REAL people at school, and sometimes I think about MADE-UP people.
ME: Okay.  But what are you saying about Daddy's favorite color and a dress?
JULIA: Well, I thought about Daddy's favorite color, and I thought about YOUR favorite color, and I decided I like purple best, and I like the girl who's wearing the purple dress a little bit BETTER.
ME: Okay.

Um.  What??

While Julia is certainly a fast and mighty galloper, she tends to be the opposite as we walk to and from school.  To top things off, Madeleine has recently gotten sick of sitting in her stroller, so the last few days, I've allowed her to walk herself, which means she actually runs gleefully, occasionally wiping out on the sidewalk.  And she will literally run all the way there and back.  I think she might wind up being a cross-country runner like her mama.  So the general scenario goes something like this: Madeleine, clumsily running on ahead of the rest of us, always on the verge of being out of control and wiping out, me walking briskly, my heart in my throat, trying to stay close enough to Madeleine to shout for her to stop as we approach intersections.  Then there's Julia, dreamily lollygagging far behind the rest of us, usually shouting out anecdotes, observations, and questions that I can barely hear.

Luckily, Madeleine has come a looooong way since her days of completely non-existent listening skills.  She is very obedient about where to stop and wait to hold hands and cross streets, so I am at long last able to actually allow her to walk by herself on the quieter, low-traffic side streets.  In fact, I rarely even need to shout for her to stop and wait, as she now understands that she must wait for me at any intersection.  Because I have used the green street signs as a marker for when to stop, she now likens them to a traffic signal.  "Mama, I STOPPED, because, see, there's the green sign!  And the green sign says STOP."

This poor kid is going to be all confused when she starts learning the rules of the road as a driver.  Green means stop!  She may wind up taking after her mother's lousy driving skills as well as cross-country abilities.

After we had dropped off Julia and were on our way home today, Madeleine paused in her sidewalk-running to remark upon two vertical grooves in the asphalt.

MADELEINE: Mama!  Look at this GIANT thing!
ME: Oh, yeah, I see!
MADELEINE: Um, I think it looks like...whatever thing it is.

What a detailed description.  I think she nailed it.  It totally looked like whatever thing it is.

My vagina feels like it's drilling.