1. Reading a book to Julia last night, she noticed that two girls playing dress-up were wearing high heeled shoes. Dividing them up in her customary way, she said, "The brown hi-eels are for the daddy and the white hi-eels are for the mama." I replied, "Actually, honey, only women wear high-heeled shoes like these. They're like dresses, or skirts; men don't wear them." She paused a moment, then said, "Except men in Scotland." I was mystified, so she explained, "Men in Scotland wear kilts, Daddy." Assign responsibility for her knowing this to Richard Scarry: his kilt-wearing Scotty dogs have struck again.
2. Continuing her avid bathtime play with the little red cup, Genevieve is now giving drinks to the frog-faced loofah, to the tiny little teddy bear that she also plays with, and to her own reflection in the shiny cover to the overflow drain. This last one is troubling, she finds, because when she leans in to offer a sip, the reflected baby disappears. Back up a bit, she reappears. Lean in, she disappears. And on and on.
3. This evening, Julia and I were discussing how we bought our "new" car last spring around this time. My expert storytelling included the line, "We went to the car store to pick up our new car." She was silent for a second, then asked, "Was it in parts?" I didn't catch on, so I said, "No, it was all in one piece, so we could drive it home." "But Daddy you said 'pick it up.' It's too big to pick up!" Ding ding, the lightbulb goes on. "Oh, I said a funny thing, honey. That kind of 'pick up' just means 'to get,' like how we say we are going to 'pick up some groceries.' You can also 'pick up' particular small things, like toys." I was aware that this was a bad, bad explanation, so then I chirped, "Hey look at all the soccer players!"