I was wearing a UNC-Chapel Hill t-shirt that had a tar heel on the sleeve. Fawn said, "Mommy, why do you have a picture of a foot with a huge splinter on your shirt?" How to explain the legend of a tar heel to a three-year old??
Not only does Fawn have a nickname for me ("Girl"), he's got one for Buck as well. The long version "Big Ole Man." The short version of the nickname is simply "Big Ole." He will actually say, for example, "Mommy, do you know when Big Ole will be home from work?" I need to pray for the ability to parent with a straight face.
Fawn loves to turn my parenting lines back around on me. Since Small Fry's arrival, I've really been gently forcing Fawn to give me a hand as we attempt to get out the door, etc. It usually involves me asking him to help get his stuff to the car -- I get him to wear his little backpack or to carry his sippy cup and snack. I usually explain that he has a hand and that I don't so I need his help. Now, on the rare instances that I actually have a free hand, instead of doing anything for himself, Fawn will say, "Mommy, can you do it? You've got a hand girl." And, then he will put whatever he wants me to carry in my hand...as if his verbal request wasn't clear enough.
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