When returning from a test drive at a car dealership, Sam embarrassingly announced to the salesman "I want to buy dis big car! I wuv it! I buy it!"
You should have seen the guys eyes light up--like the sale was in the bag. You could see his mind thinking "I can so use their daughter's desires against these vulnerable parents."
Too bad for him, we're utterly heartless. Sam may love that "big car," and as suckery as we might be when it comes to small toys and cute shoes, we absolutely refuse to make a major purchase like a car, because a two year old tells us to. Seriously, who would? Anything involving financing, and Sam's opinion goes out the window.
Bummer for the car guy, I guess. We did end up getting a car, just not from him. Not for a lack of trying on Sam's part. To be fair, she "wuvs" riding in anything other than our car, and always asks "I buy it? I ride it!" so she can ride them whenever she wants. This goes for tricycles, bikes, rolling toys, other people's cars, and yes, even shopping carts. Particularly the flat ones at Home Depot. Maybe if he sold those instead...
Saturday, March 20, 2010
Thursday, March 4, 2010
Be Careful What You Wish For
Lately, Sam has been talking our ears off. By our, I pretty much mean Daniel and me, because if anyone new so much as asks her name, she will burrow in my shoulder and occasionally shoot them confused glances. I know all kids do this at some point, but I get tired of the "oh really?" looks I get if I tell someone what Sam has said lately. I can't blame them for thinking I'm exaggerating or making it up while she stares up at them, slug-like. So, I've been wishing that she would pipe up on occasion. I don't expect her to have a full-blown conversation with total strangers or anything, but just to answer some polite questions would be nice.
Be careful what you wish for.
On Monday night, I had an unfortunately timed world's worst migraine, and had to go to the doctor very first thing Tuesday morning, which conflicted with Daniel's unfortunately timed early morning jury duty. He couldn't find a way to call them since none of the phone lines opened until he was already supposed to report, so I ended up dragging myself and Sam to the doctor (luckily, it's a block away and the most severe pain had subsided so I wasn't a hazard on the road). What she saw there must have changed her life.
Now, she will tell absolutely anyone who will hold still long enough, "At da doctor...Mommy get a big shot. IN DA BUM! In da BUM!!!!" It's the most hilarious thing she can possibly thing of.
She told the entire extended family last night. She says it over and over in the car, and anytime we pass the doctor's office (which is luckily located right next to the main exit of our neighborhood so it happens a lot). She tells people on the phone. I'm straight up nervous to take her to the store, not wanting to have to talk to a cashier about the state of my health or bum.
Sheesh. Hey, Sam, remember when you didn't talk to anyone? Uh, can we go back to that? Just until you don't feel the need to tell strangers about the shot in my bum? Besides, the nurse said it was my hip...why can't you seem to remember that part?
Be careful what you wish for.
On Monday night, I had an unfortunately timed world's worst migraine, and had to go to the doctor very first thing Tuesday morning, which conflicted with Daniel's unfortunately timed early morning jury duty. He couldn't find a way to call them since none of the phone lines opened until he was already supposed to report, so I ended up dragging myself and Sam to the doctor (luckily, it's a block away and the most severe pain had subsided so I wasn't a hazard on the road). What she saw there must have changed her life.
Now, she will tell absolutely anyone who will hold still long enough, "At da doctor...Mommy get a big shot. IN DA BUM! In da BUM!!!!" It's the most hilarious thing she can possibly thing of.
She told the entire extended family last night. She says it over and over in the car, and anytime we pass the doctor's office (which is luckily located right next to the main exit of our neighborhood so it happens a lot). She tells people on the phone. I'm straight up nervous to take her to the store, not wanting to have to talk to a cashier about the state of my health or bum.
Sheesh. Hey, Sam, remember when you didn't talk to anyone? Uh, can we go back to that? Just until you don't feel the need to tell strangers about the shot in my bum? Besides, the nurse said it was my hip...why can't you seem to remember that part?
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