Mature

At last week's doctor's appointment, my doctor shook her head in dismay, remarking, "Elizabeth, this baby sounds and looks sooo mature.  I just don't understand why he hasn't made his appearance yet."  Sure enough, his movements, his heart beat, his position...everything that matters...supports the idea that he is mature.  I am going to give birth to a son whose voice is already deep, who shaves, and who has a surly, teenage attitude.

Sophie's maturity continues to baffle us.  She is perceptive and articulate.  She makes really sophisticated and mature connections and observations.  Her conversations relate stories she's read to personal experiences.  I swell with pride for who she already has become at 2.5 years old.

Blame it on my exhaustion from growing this mature baby, but I have done a poor job of documenting Sophie's particularly sweet, particularly smart, and particularly hysterical sentences.  Here are a couple that I can remember:

Exhibit A.

S: Mommy, do you know who made you?
E: Yes, I do..
S: God made you mommy.  Do you know God's book?

Exhibit B.

(in the car after a Saturday brunch as a family of 3)

E:  Sophie, I don't want you to ever grow up.  I just love you so much and want you to be my little girl forever.
D: Sophie, I do want you to grow up.  You just get better and better.
S:  Why did Daddy tell me to grow up?  That's rude.

Exhibit C.

(S has been very inconsistent with her naps in the afternoons.  We've tried everything from bribery to empty threats...!!)

E: (entering Soph's room after 60 minutes of her playing and singing in her crib rather than sleeping): Sophie, I'm not happy right now.  You need to take a nap to rest and to grow big and strong.....(blah blah). I'm really not happy right now that you chose to be naughty.
S:  You. Are. Happy.  You. Are. Happy.
E: No, I'm not happy, Sophie.  You didn't act like a big girl today.
S:  You. Are. Happy.  You. Are. Happy.

She repeated those three words in a little tune with a certain facial expression that just cracked me up.  I tried SOOOO hard not to laugh.  But, I burst out laughing and tickled her.  She knew she won and she loved it!

I'm not sure how mature I've been this week.  I've complained.  I have been impatient.  I have whined.  I have pouted....but I've also loved playing with this little one:

Keeping my fingers crossed that my next blog entry introduces you to our mature son.