Time Out

sam:  mommy, baby Caius is flipping out.
me:  yes, sweetheart.  he is.
sam:  is he throwing a fit?
me:  yes, sweetheart.  he is.
sam:  does he need a time-out?
me:  um, he can't sit yet.
sam:  hmmm.
exit sam.

a few seconds later....
enter sam with pillow in hand.
sam places pillow on time-out stool.
sam:  here ya go caius.  nobody wants to hear it.

I find myself continuously amazed at my daughter's ability to reason and apply those things I have taught her to situations that are actually appropriate.  What makes this truly fascinating is its juxtaposition to her randomness and rebellions.  The same child that counts to 63 before getting bored dreams about "monkey kites".  The little girl who was having tea on the windowsill with Thomas Jefferson and Gumby at 18 months is refusing to toilet train at 2 1/2 years.   The child that practices her letters and spelling on the front porch will pretend she can't speak when company arrives.

And then, there's bedtime.

sam:  mommy, I'm a sister!
me:  yes, and I'm a mother.
sam:  you're not a mother, you're a mommy.
me:  well, a mother is the same thing as a mommy; so I'm a mother AND a mommy -- Just like your dad is a father AND a daddy.
sam:  no, he's not.  he's just dad.