Words.

There are some phrases that come out of the mouths of my children, and I wonder where it is that they have picked them up. Because, really, I have never heard them come out of my mouth, or their father’s mouth. I can’t remember hearing them uttered from the television by anyone or anything in any of their videos. Perhaps these phrases just come from the deepest depths of their little imaginations.

So it happens that Big Brother is following Little Sister around, squeezing her cheeks and saying, “My little weeny, weeny,” in that smooshy voice we all save for things that are cute and edible. It seems to me that this wouldn’t be so bad if he would at least once say, “My little teeny weeny,” but he is forever insistent on two “weeny”s and no “teeny”s. My sense of propriety is only slightly wounded though because it’s just so darn funny. And in actuality, she is a little weeny, weeny. She’s just that cute.

And because she is just so cute, adorable and squeezable, she too walks about saying cute and adorable things herself. She knows her name, and she of course knows mine since I am the one she needs to talk to when hungry or in need of something. However, more than anything else, she is called “honey” by us all because she’s such a sweetie pie (when she’s not throwing temper tantrums or making herself otherwise disagreeable). That word has bored itself into her little head to such a degree that I have graduated from simply “mommy” to “honey-mama”. I have to admit that I rather like it.

Nor do I complain when my little man looks me in the eyes and tells me, “Mama, you’re so pretty.” I know he’s just throwing compliments at me because I set up the Wii for him; even so, it’s nice to hear his toddler voice petting me with appreciatory comments while he runs a savage racing campaign in the world of MarioKart.