I’m always so surprised by Cate. I should know to expect the unexpected from her by now, but she always finds a way to catch me off-guard. In the last few days, I’ve been amazed at how grown-up she’s seemed.
Cate’s imagination has sprouted and is stretching out in a million different directions. Yesterday, as I was unloading the dishwasher, Cate was playing with her kitchen set. She was taking her wooden cookies and placing them in her microwave. She’d close the door, hum for a second, then shout, “Beep, beep, beep!” and open the door and place a new cookie in and repeat the whole process.
Later, Cate was watching me vacuum my bedroom. After a few minutes, she looked at me and told me, “The vacuum is hungry, Mommy.” I had to chuckle. If it is, in fact, hungry, it’s because I don’t “feed” it often enough (meaning I should vacuum a lot more often.)
Cate also has started asking some (what I consider) very intelligent and relevant questions. It seems that suddenly you can hold a conversation with her. Yesterday evening, I needed to get dinner started. Cate was in the living room and I asked her, “Cate, would you like to come into the kitchen and cook with me?“
“What are you making, Mommy?” she asked.
I was thrown off for a second. Her questions usually don’t have anything to do with what’s actually happening. After a quick recovery, I replied, “Quesadillas. Do you want to help me?“
Cate shouted, “Okay!” and ran into the kitchen.
Now, if you’re looking at the menu plan to the right and thinking to yourself, “she didn’t plan on having quesadillas,” I know. There was no pita bread when I went grocery shopping, so I had to change it up. I used some leftover smoked turkey from the freezer, sauteed some red bell pepper and onion, and shredded some pepper jack cheese to make a quick and delicious supper.
Cate stood on a chair and watched me cut up some vegetables. She narrated, “Sh*t. Sh*t. Sh*t. Are you sh*ttin’, Mommy?“
I didn’t get worked up about this because I know what she actually means. She means “chop.” She mimics the sound she hears while I’m chopping, which to her sounds like “sh*t.” Every time I make a cut, she says the word. I’ve tried correcting this mispronunciation many times to no avail. I really need to get it straight before she embarrasses me. (I do find it a little funny, though, because she’s so innocent about it.)
I know she’s still my little girl, but I see the baby-ness slipping away more and more everyday. For now, I’m glad to have things like her mispronunciation to remind me that she’s still my baby. It’s also wonderful to see her blossoming into such a smart and funny person.