Today we were all sitting on the recliner when I smelled a most unpleasant smell coming from downstairs, where we keep the cat's litter box, and also where the dogs like to go occasionally to poop on the floor.
"Do you all smell poop?"
Izzy cheerfully says, "Nope!," but Sophie curls up her lip and says, "Yes - yuck!"
"I'm going to have to get rid of these stupid dogs," I say. Don't worry, the kids know I'm joking. Mostly. On both accounts.
Izzy says, "Then we could get a bunny!"
"No way," I say. "No more pets pooping all over my house."
Sophie thinks for a moment then says, "I know, we can get a snake. Snakes don't poop all over the house."
Thinking I've misheard her, I ask, "A snake??"
"No, silly, a BABY snake," she says. Then she sings: "I saw that, I saw that, I saw baby snake, I saw baby snake..."
Trust me, it's no coincidence that Izzy thought bunnies, and Sophie thought snakes.
Are you still not convinced she's insane? How about possibly psychotic then?
Yesterday she kept irritating Izzy and fighting with him, then running to me to tell on him when he'd hit back. After a dozen or so times of this, she runs in and in that awful whiny, sing-song tattle voice that all kids possess, she says, "Mo-0m! Izzy hit me!"
"Good," I say. "I'm glad. I told you to quit irritating him a dozen times already."
She gives me the evil eye, then she runs back into the living room with Izzy and tells him, "Mom says I have to kill you now, Izzy."
Don't worry, after I stopped laughing, I told Izzy that I hadn't really given her those instructions.