Here’s one of those things the books don’t tell you about parenting:
You will have the exact same conversation about thirty-eight times in one day. You will have the same conversation about twenty-two times the next day. You will have the conversation fifteen times the day after that. You will have the same conversation three more times before the next “same conversation” starts up.
Babypie has entered “same conversation” age with a fury this past week. Our conversations thus far have centered around two subjects, Ponyo and the driveway beast that poops in Babypie’s pants. Like I could make this stuff up!
We recently discovered Ponyo, the 2008 Miyazakii film, is available on Netflix instant watch. We’re huge Miyazaki fans and the boys have always loved Totoro, so we figured we’d give Ponyo a shot. It’s as adorable, if bizarre, as I expected. Ponyo in her fish state looks a bit like a Waldorf doll, which I find amusing. The boys enjoyed the movie a lot, but the one who has really become obsessed with Ponyo is Babypie.
Now, I’ve historically been a “no/limited TV for under 2″ kind of mom, but when you add that third kid, sometimes your standards slip a little. Babypie likes to sit with her brothers and watch a movie, even if she doesn’t watch it that closely. Ponyo, however, has been declared the greatest Babypie experience of all time. She calls it “Baby inna Wawa” (baby in the water) and talks constantly about the baby inna wawa, baby go byebye, baby aw’off, [Sosuke says] “MOM! MOMMY!”, Baby inna Wawa Mahmoum (baby in the water Ponyo). She tells me about baby inna wawa all day. If I don’t give the right responses (“That’s right! Ponyo does live in the water.” “Yes, Sosuke is very sad when he can’t find his mom.”), she will repeat the conversation louder and louder until I give them.
Yesterday, we upgraded to a second conversation, so at least I now have some variation. Every morning, I ask Babypie if she slept sweet and if she had dreams. Yesterday morning, she said yes, so I asked what she dreamed about. “Poop pants.” Oh, you dreamed you pooped in your pants? “Cow.” What? You dreamed a cow pooped in your pants? “Yes.” Ok, then.
Later in the morning, she declared, “Beast poop pants!” (She actually says “beat” and “boop” and “pans” which I think is cute) A beast pooped in Babypie’s pants? “Yeeeeeah! A beat!” What kind of beast? *points out the window* “INNA DIE-WAY!” A beast in the driveway pooped in your pants? “YEEEEAH!” Oh no! That’s terrible! “YEAH! BEAT BOOP PANS!” Oh dear, what a bad beast! “BAD BEAT! BEAT BOOP!” Yes, very bad. “Beat boop pans!” Really? You don’t say! “Beat inna die-way…”
I”m not sure which conversation I prefer, honestly. The beast one is funnier, but I do try to discourage poop humor. That’s parenting for you, if you are childless and ever wondered. Ponyo, beasts, and the same darn conversation over and over again.
Luckily, she’s an amazingly adorable little beast.
