My can't love you anymore, Mommy.

Man, this girl was just full of em today. ..
We had to drop off some Tupperware and make a few other quick stops this morning, after the huge butt incident. So we're in the car enjoying the day, Sedona is singing and laughing at funny looking trucks. Your basic pleasant car ride.

Well, before I go any further you should probably know about her obsession with poopy diapers. Somewhere along the way "poop" became frigging hilarious. She throws it into the lyrics of timeless classics like Twinkle Little Star (poop), she uses it as a joke, an insult, dinner conversation - you name it. Now don't get me wrong . . she has been reprimanded, reminded of the niceties of polite society versus bathroom humor (something a staggering number of adults are yet to master) and she'll back off of the poop talk for awhile but to no avail. It always comes back in the least likely of places.

So we're driving, talking, doing our thing and I asked what other songs she knows. "Ummm.... how bout . . . . . (she allows the suspense to build). . . . poopy diapers?" and giggles.
I expalined that I really didn't think we needed to talk about poopy diapers while we were driving in the car since there was obviously no baby within range who might actually have a poopy diaper in need of attention.
"Nope. My want talk about poop."
"Sedona, no. We are not talking about poop."

and so on. . you can imagine the ridiculously of this conversation without me going into graphic detail. And if you cannot, I'd be happy to loan you my child for an afternoon.

She is quiet for a couple of minutes. I assume the poop obsession has waned once again when suddenly I hear, "My can't love you anymore, Mommy."

Interesting.
"Really? That's sad but I still love you."

"Sometimes my love you and sometimes my have to hate you. but right now, my can't love you anymore."

Again with the quietness.

Until -
"My can't love you because you won't talk poop to me. So maybe my love you another time but I want to talk about poop and you won't do it."

Really?
Again, much like this morning, this scene played out over the next 5 or so minutes but much of it was even more repetitive than what I've already shared with you.

It has been a long day. An entertaining if very exhausting day and now I will call it done and try to rest up for the hatred tomorrow promises to bring. Oh - have I mentioned that she has also caught on to some of Jordan's particularly choice phrases?
Things he only likes to pull out in the middle of a full blown frustration/rage fit. Things like "YOU"VE RUINED MY LIFE" "I WISH I WAS NEVER EVEN BORN" "YOU DON"T EVEN LOVE ME ANYWAY!" "I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU!"

How old is he again? Because I really thought I had at least a few more years on some of those.

The thing is - Sedona hasn't quite mastered the timing and correct emotional fuel behind these statements. So when I put jelly on her bread when she really only wanted butter I get "You've ruined my life, Mom" with tears. Or when her shoes don't match quite as exactly as maybe she had hoped "You don't love me!" with a giggle. I'm sure it won't take her long to get good and furious and when she does, boy, you'll find me in the nearest scaredy-hole (<--a gem of a term, new to us and introduced by a much beloved grandfather when discussing options of tornado-proofing our slab home. He thought maybe we could "dig us a scaredy-hole right in the backyard").
must sleep. no more babbling tonight.