Tag Archives: Maggie Says

Maggie Round-Up

I had just made Moscow Mules for the adults, and virgin versions for the kids. Maggie said, as she handed Griffin his cup, “Here you go, Griffin! There’s no alcohol in here, but it tastes like there is!” Griffin’s response: “You don’t even know what alcohol tastes like!”

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Me: “Maggie, why haven’t you brushed your teeth yet? I even got your toothbrush ready for you!”

Maggie: “I was just so busy laying on the floor…”

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Maggie: “BOO!!!”

Me: “Oh my! You surprised me!”

Maggie <leaning on the couch on her elbow>: “You see, I’m a hider. YEP! I hide REALLY well!”

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Andrew overheard Maggie singing “Over the Rainbow” to the tune of the Star Wars theme song. Pretty awesome.

 

 

Siblings

This morning, per her Wednesday custom, Sarah went to an outdoor workout in the pre-sunrise Minnesota air. (Blizzard last night? Pshaw.) But this post isn’t about Sarah’s well-known bad-assery. Just setting the scene: I’m solo dad.

So at 6:30, I’m down in the kitchen, making my breakfast, steeling myself to shovel the walk and trudge through the very deep snow to school. Griffin comes down earlier than usual — fully dressed — excited for a snow day. (His school was cancelled. Mine was not.) He settles down at the art table to paint some volcanoes. Maggie comes padding into the kitchen, bleary-eyed, and croaks, “Where’s Mama?”

I remind her that Mama vanishes on Wednesday morning. She looks sad and cold, and may burst out crying at any moment. Griffin sees this and says, “Maggie, would you like to paint with me at the art table?” Maggie looks up, but shakes her head… not interested. Griffin’s shoulder’s slump, but then he takes a deep breath, and says, “Ok. Would you like me to read a book to you on the couch?” Maggie considers this for a moment, and slowly nods her head. Moments later, they are snuggled up on the couch reading a book together. And my heart is bursting.

This day…

Maggie is a verbal kid, talking pretty much all the time. She’s generally an effective communicator, conveying her points successfully, even if she doesn’t ultimately get what she wants. (So many foiled plans, resulting in extravagant drama.)

One quirk of language with her recently is that she has trouble with words relating to the past and future, especially today, yesterday, and tomorrow. She knows what they mean, and can use them in sentences, but she seems bothered by their fluidity: tomorrow becomes today becomes yesterday. To get around this, she’s taken to a using the phrase “this day” to indicate today. Then she adds events with before or after until she clarifies what she means.

Here’s an example that we just heard in the car—she’s excited about her grandparents’ visit tomorrow:

“Mama, this day, after we sleep and wake up, is it grandma and grandpa day?”

No reason to share this other than that Sarah and I think it is unbearably cute, and we know it will fade away in time and we’ll never quite remember how she worded it.


Update: I’ve since been listening to Maggie using this construction and noticed that she also has an alternative to the word yesterday: “last day.” She might say, for example, “Daddy, last day, did you go to school?”

Nervous Monster

On the way up to bed tonight:

Maggie: Mama, will you be a monster?

Mama: Sure! Roarrrrrrr!

Maggie, looking nervous: Wait! Um, can I be a monster too?

Mama: Sure!

Maggie: Ok, since we are both monsters, we can touch each other.

Mama: Ok…

Maggie: Let’s hold hands on our way upstairs.

Mama and Maggie, holding hands: ROARRRRRR!


Update—the following night, with Sarah out of town:

Maggie: Daddy, play monster!

Daddy: Ok. Roaarrrr!!!

Maggie squeals, makes it half way up the stairs, and says, “Wait! I’m a monster too!”

We hold hands the rest of the way, roaring together.


Update—yet another night:

Maggie: You know what? I’m super tired so I runned out of energy. That’s why I don’t want to play monster.