Mean Girls

Yesterday morning we were going through our relatively hectic morning routine as I tried to get myself and two little kids ready for a day of work and daycare. As much as I try to tell Rhett that he needs to dress himself in the mornings, most mornings he pitifully asks me to do it. A few times a week I help him out because it makes the morning easier for all of us. Yesterday was this kind of day. As I was starting to get him ready, Emma made a beeline for his toys (normally, she would fight him for my attention and try to wriggle her way into my lap in order to get between Rhett and me). Filled with tears, our conversation went something like this:

Rhett: Ahhhh! She's getting my things! I don't want her to do that!
Me: Rhett you have about 100 cars, maybe we should just let her play with some of them.
Rhett: No! I don't want her to play with them.
Me: Well Rhett, sometimes you play with her toys, and she usually lets you play with her toys. In our house, we share things.
Rhett: Well, we have a mean girl in this house.
Me: Who? Me?
Rhett: No Emma.

This was so funny because at the time Emma was all dolled up in her cute, girly, innocent clothes but she still had her crazy bedhead sticking out about a foot in all directions, and she kept looking at us with the cutest little smile.

I've been feeling guilty about the lack of pictures, so here's some artwork that the kids did in daycare.

Rhett's masterpiece (he likes to stay in the lines and not scribble, and he likes to alternate colors):



Emma's masterpiece. Wonder what those psychologist types would say this type of art reveals about her personality.



She must have really liked painting that day because she pleasantly finger painted my table with yogurt that evening during dinner.