"Okay, Miss Trunchbull"

When Vivian isn't happy with my directions lately she says to me, "okay, fine Miss Trunchbull," in reference to the headmistress in Roald Dahl's Matilda. 

Bloody Mary

There is a (sub)urban legend that the third graders at my school seem to discover each year, the story of Bloody Mary.  I have heard several versions of the story over the years so it wasn't all that surprising when Sam started reading the books Scary Stories and More Scary Stories this winter.  I distinctly remember these from my childhood and tried to dissuade him, especially after he couldn't sleep one night, but he was determined.

One night recently after dinner, I was cleaning up and making lunches for the next day, when the children disappeared upstairs to play.  I was listening to music and noticed that it had gotten quiet, but didn't pursue it.  Suddenly I heard a wail and Lanie appeared, "mama! Vivian is scared! She no like Bloody Mair-we!"
As I approached the stairs, the wails became louder, and Lanie continued, "Bloody Mair-we is very, very sca-wy for Vivian.  It makes her sad."
"Samuel!" I yelled. Silence.
"Sam!"
"Yes?" he finally answered.
I found Vivian crying and almost trembling at the top of the stairs.  Sam was in his room looking very guilty.
Vivian told me some garbled story about a bloody queen who comes and takes children away and they disappear and then something about the curtains moving.  Sam looked considerably more guilty.  I finally got Sam in the shower and talked Vivian out of her hysteria and got her pajamas on.  I turned on lullabies on my phone and went to get Sam's pajamas out.
"Oh, mama," Lanie says, "what is this song called?"
"I don't know Lanie, I'll look in a minute." I answered.
Lanie thought briefly, "is it called Mair-we?"
Vivian started crying again.
I got her settled again, went into the bathroom, gave Sam his pajamas and lectured him on scaring people.  He seemed contrite enough.
I returned to start reading the girls their stories.  When I finished and got them headed towards bed, Lanie asked for a Barbie that she likes to hold.  I retrieved it and she said, with perfect innocence, "yes, her name is Sasha.  No... I call her Mair-we."
Vivian's face crumpled, Sam burst into laughter.

Consequences

Lanie has a horrible cough and cold right now and is a little fragile.  She and Vivian were playing very nicely yesterday afternoon, until Lanie wanted to touch Vivian's new doll one too many times.  At which point Vivian apparently hit her in the face.  I found Lanie sobbing, coughing, and gagging on the attic stairs coming down from the playroom.  Vivian was no where to be found.

When Lanie stopped coughing she told me, "mama, Vivian smack me in the face."
"Vivian! I don't know where you are, but you are having a consequence when I see you again! You do not hurt your sister!" I called.
No answer.
I repeated myself, and finally heard, "FINE. Don't worry! I am grounding myself in my room!"

I choose to ignore this and got Lanie settled with something else.

Later, Vivian came downstairs, and I explained, "you do not hit your sister or choose your consequence.  That's mom or dad's choice."

She glared at me (she may have turned 16 not 6). 

"I know," Lanie piped up, "she's consequence is you smack her in the face." 

Simultaneously I said, (trying not to laugh), "no Lanie," while Vivian yelled, ""NO LANIE! I heard that!" and ran straight back up to her room.

A Bug

Vivian has had an upset stomach for a few days now and keeps asking why her stomach hurts.  I told her she probably had a little bug and needs to rest and drink.
She asked me again a little later and I said, "remember, it's probably a little bug?"
"Or a fly," she told me.
"Um, I think a bug, which means a little sickness."
"Right. Like a fly. Probably a mosquito.  Remember mosquitoes make big bites on me? I think one did it inside my stomach.  I have a mosquito."
"Perhaps."

"Want to see my dress?"

I have a friend's wedding coming up this weekend, so last weekend I was organizing and getting things together for it. 
I called to Vivian, "do you want to see my dress for the wedding?"
She and Lanie came running, "yes! Where is it?" she asked.
She surveyed it in silence.
"What do you think?" I asked.
"Well, I would like it better if it was pretty," she told me.
It's a black dress, with a grey skirt and Vivian likes color, so I'm guessing it would be more appealing to her if it was colorful.
I looked at Lanie, "dress is big," she told me.

Let's Call Her....

Vivian has this strange idea that when Lanie grows up, she will have a different name.  We have variations of the same conversation:

"Mom, when Lanie grows up let's call her Za-Za."
"Um, how about Lanie?"
"No, when she grows up, we'll call her Za-Za.  It's nice.  Hi Za-Za!"
"Um, we'll think about it."

So far we should name her:  Za-Za, Abbie, Videa, La-La, Anna, and some others I can't remember right now.

Moving

At least someone isn't stressed about it! 

"Sam, what color do you want to paint your room?"

"Can I choose any color?"

"I suppose so..."

"Okay, then gold."

"Oh."

"Mom?"

"Yes, Vivian?"

"You paint a lady Minnie Mouse in my room like this:" (holds up hands to make circles in the air) "and I paint a little, baby Minnie Mouse next to it right on my wall."

"Hmmm..."

"Mom."

"Yes, Vivian."

"Where does our new house live?"

"What?"

"Where does the blue house live?"

"Um, I'm confused..."

"Where does our house now live?"

"Oh! You mean the name of the town!"

Exasperated: "yes mom, I says where does they live!"