Sunday, June 19, 2016

Tater Tot, age 4.5. Thoughts on goalie gloves and gas.

I grabbed a quick sandwich for lunch after picking up Tater from summer camp.  While we waited for the food, she munched on a cookie and watched a soccer game.  This conversation ensued, causing the woman sitting next to us to convulse with laughter and possibly snort her iced tea up her nose.  I really just can't do her justice though, because she has an intangible element to her voice that makes everything about 30x more hilarious.

Tater:  What is in his mouth?  Is it a teether?
Me: No, it's a mouthguard.
T: Why does he have a mouthguard?
M: It protects his teeth.
T:  Cause if the ball hits him in the mouth, all his teeth might FALL OUT!  And then, and then, he couldn't eat anything or drink anything EVER AGAIN! (her eyes are saucer size imagining the horrors)
T:  Why is that other boy wearing gloves?  Is it because he has to be fancy?!


The temps are rising, and t-ball games are becoming a sweaty, mosquito-ridden experience.  Not that I'm complaining.  Tater always insists that we, "Feel my back!  I'm sooo sweaty!  Feel me!"  Then she tries to cuddle me, the little sweatball!

Tater may look like a little forest fairy but she belches like a trucker.  We have this silly little exchange in our family, where the burper says, "Excuse me." Then we respond, "Nice one."  This came about accidentally with the Nugget, when it happened a couple of times.  Then the next time I forgot to congratulate him on his burp, he looked at me with sad puppy dog eyes and said forlornly, "You forgot to say, 'Nice one,' Mommy."  Anyway, flash forward and Tater prefers to skip the, "Excuse me," part and just goes straight to patting herself on the back.  After swim lessons, she belches repeatedly and exclaims, "Nice ones!"

Speaking of burps, this just happened.
"What are we having for dinner?...Oooo, I love that so much. I'm going to eat so much of that and burp five times. Maybe six."



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