I almost forgot about this until this morning. Rachel is in the kitchen making banana bread with Grandma--we have a lot of leftover bananas from the wedding. Grandpa was just in there teasing Rachel (under the guise of eating breakfast) and this story came up so I thought I'd jot it down.
Shortly before Sarah got married we were all downstairs in the basement playing when Sarah came downstairs halfway and poked her head over the banister. She started gushing about this and that and that and this, as only Sarah can. Rachel still hadn't seen Sarah a lot since Sarah was working all day and spending all evening with Cory, only to return far past Rachel's bedtime, so Rachel wasn't too sure what to think about her yet.
She sat there listening to Sarah blather on for quite some time before looking up at her and saying, "You talk a lot."
It's no secret that Sarah has a gift for gab and Rachel's frank summary of Sarah was offered so innocently and sincerely that nobody could keep from laughing. Because everyone laughed at her comment Rachel now thinks it's funny to say it under any old context. So she just told Grandpa he talks a lot. Somehow it wasn’t as funny, but they quickly resolved their differences and left for a walk.
Rachel raced down the hall to tell me they were going “Ploring!”
“You’re going bowling?”
“No! We’re going firing!”
“Yeah! We’re going on a walk to find things to burn!”
They were going exploring. To find things to burn in a fire because it’s so cold outside. Apparently that is firing.
Rachel likes to verbify her nouns a lot. Basically any noun that ends in an –er sound (fire included) can be verbified in Rachel’s dialect.
Firing = to have a fire
Scissoring = to cut something with scissors
Markering = to colour something with felt pens
Yesterday morning Rachel climbed in bed with us.
“Meow,” she said and cuddled into me.
“Oh, are you a cat?” I asked.
“No. That’s just a sound what that the cat makes it.”
There are so many extra words in there I don’t even want to begin analyzing it, but it was so endearing. There are times when Rachel is too sweet for words.
Last night Miriam was fussing while we were getting the girls ready for bed. She was tired and wanted to sleep so badly but we kept doing things like brushing her teeth, changing her diaper, and putting pyjamas on her. The nerve, I know.
“Don’t cry, Meme,” Rachel told her sweetly, “I don’t want to get ready for bed, either, but we have to because it is bedtime.”
“Miriam isn’t crying because she doesn’t want to go to bed,” Andrew explained, “She is crying because she wants to go to bed.”
The look on Rachel’s face said everything she didn’t: You’re crazy!
Several nights ago neither of the girls wanted to go to bed. They were both calling out for me in their beds—Miriam standing up and Rachel sitting up. I was ignoring them because it was late and I just kept hoping they would give up and go to sleep on their own.
If Miriam isn’t asleep when I put her down she pulls herself up to standing within seconds and this really bothers Rachel, even if Miriam isn’t crying.
“Lie down, Meme!” Rachel will yell, “Lie down! It is bedtime! Mom! Meme won’t lie down! Come and make her lie down!”
This particular night, however, both girls were screaming, though Rachel was still trying to take charge as the older sister.
“Shhhh! Shhh! It’s okay Meme. Don’t cry. I’m here. I’m here. Don’t scream…” she said.
How cute! I thought to myself, a little too soon.
“…Because I am louder! Watch this. MOM! We want you to hold us! MOMMY, COME HERE!”
What else could I do but go in and hold them. They obviously weren’t going to quiet down on their own.
Which brings me to the word hold. Rachel has no idea how to use this verb. She uses the archaic form “holden” and will turn “hold” into a phrasal verb “holded by.” More often than not she leaves the preposition dangling at the end of a sentence, which is a big no-no for phrasal verbs and is where we get the adage about not ending a sentence with a preposition.
“Mommy,” she’ll sniff when she’s sad, “I just want to be holded by.”
Sometimes that’s all anybody needs: someone to be holded by.
Other times we need thermometers. Rachel just found one that we had packed away in a box. She stuck it under her shirt to “check what hot she is.”
“I’m 23 hots,” she said, “Because I’m three but I still like two.”
When she’s not throwing massive, uncontrollable temper tantrums this girl is so cute, funny, and loveable.