siena dictates for cat named pig

I put Elliot down for his nap, while Siena turned on the tv and picked out a movie to watch. I went downstairs to find Siena watching an informercial. And scene:

Matt: Ready, sweety? What movie did you choose?
Siena: Daddy, this thing is amazing. The Redi-Set-Go can make anything.
Matt: I’ve watched some of this before. Looks like it makes cooking easy, doesn’t it?
Siena: Yeah. Maybe I could do it, if it wasn’t hot. It can make any pizza…and it can make a chocolate thing with bars of other chocolate stuffed inside of it.
Matt: So it’s chocolate stuffed chocolate?
Siena: And I saw them making a chicken that you could eat.

We watched another five minutes of the infomercial, as they showed this little device making upside-down pineapple cake, steak with mushrooms and wine reduction, pancake balls, not-fried fried chicken, an omelette, and more. If we would have called in the next 18 minutes they would have taken one payment off and given us an extra cooking insert. Almost had us, but we watched Madeline, instead, satisfied with the two microwaves we already own.

In the car, we heard some guys talking about the tornado that touched down in a town west of the Twin Cities, leading to this exchange:

Man on radio: People on the ground say a tornado touched down in Spicer not that long ago.
Siena: Spicy? A tornado?
Matt: Spicer. It’s near where our friends were married a few years ago.
Siena: But why would it be a Spicer tornado?
Siena: The tornado wasn’t spicy, sweety. That’s where it touched ground.
Siena: Oh. (and then whispering, as she looks out the window, as she realizes her mistake) Spicy tornado…

Of course, Elliot then had to chime in with “Spicy? Spicy? Todando?” The next three minutes explaining it to a two-year-old were great.

Siena was singing as she waited for me to sit next to her and read at bedtime Sunday night after her 5th birthday party:

(singing loudly) Somebody call 9-1-1, shorty fire is burning on the dance floor…whoa-ohhh…somebody call 9-1-1, and tell me where is my koala…whoa-ohhh.

She sang it perfectly. We may or may not have been listening to KDWB and singing it as we were driving around earlier in the day running errands. Here’s the song by Sean Kingston, if you aren’t familiar. She also nailed “The Climb” by “the girl who sings during the closing credits of Bolt” (Miley Cyrus).

Siena has shown a strong will against losing the training wheels on her bike and learning to ride without them. We’ve done it four or five times this spring, but inevitably, they end up back on, “Because it’s the way for me to keep going, daddy.” Well then.

However, so she can at least continue to learn the balancing act riding a bicycle takes, I adjust the training wheels so they are a little more wobbly. At least she can learn how the bike goes side to side a little bit and can adjust as she goes. Well, sometimes she leans a little too far to the side around the turns and will tip over. Over the weekend, this happened, somehow skinning the top of her foot just a little bit, right at the base where the leg starts to go up (I know. How the hell does that part touch the ground, anyway?). So, I took her in the bathroom for a band-aid, because that stops it from hurting, so she says.

Matt: Siena, I’m going to put some healing ointment on it, so it can heal faster, ok?
Siena: No, daddy. That makes it hurt worse.
Matt: Actually, it makes it heal faster, so you don’t need the band-aid on as long.
Siena: But mama doesn’t do that. I cry.
Matt: Believe me. It’s better this way.
Siena: (I’m rummaging through the medicine cabinet, as she sits on the toilet seat, whimpering/whispering to herself) Stay calm…stay calm…stay calm…be brave…stay calm…

After limping around the house and yard for about five minutes while I grilled burgers, she seemed to be fine. Although, I think I saw the band-aid on our patio by the end of the night. Either the healing ointment worked magic in under an hour or she couldn’t “stay calm” in her head to fathom having it touch her skin any longer. Oh well. I don’t recall hearing about it in the morning.

Saturday was our first weekend back at the Mill City Farmer’s Market downtown. Siena always gets $1.25 to buy a cookie. This time, she and Laura came back with three big ones for everyone to share. Much to my surprise, there was a small chunk left over when we were getting in the car.

Matt: Siena, do you want to eat the last piece of cookie?
Siena: No, I’m fine.
Matt (and rest of car): …

You have no idea how shocking her response is/was/still is. She has my sweet tooth, graciously passed down to her, by me, from my dad. This is the same girl who I found crawling on the counter the evening before getting chocolate easter eggs out of the cupboard. After Halloween, we find wrappers stashed around the house, under her pillow and in her shoes, as she sneaks around to get her fix. And she didn’t want to finish the first chocolate chip cookie of the farmer’s market summer. Rarely does she shock us anymore, but that did it.

Less than a minute after being awake:

Siena: Daddy, yesterday Annabelle and I both tried on that shiny blue nighty right there and it showed our nipples. (now whispering) Our nipples.

Matt: Uhhh. We’ll fix that.

Driving home from preschool:

Siena: Daddy, I have a very sad tale to tell you.
Matt: What’s that, hon?
Siena: We tried running really fast, but the bumblebee stung Elliot in the chin…in the chest.
Matt: Ooooh…did he cry?
Siena: Yeah. I tried to warn him to watch for the bumblebee…it was a grumpy one.
Matt: Sounds like it. Where were you?
Siena: Well, I ran to the door, and I tried to warn Elliot to run to inside, too, but the grumpy bumblebee was too fast and got to him. I wish we had a bee keeper on our block that was able to get the bees in spring, in the middle of spring and at the beginning of spring
Matt: Well, mama didn’t call me at work, so he’s probably fine.
Siena:(as we pull up to the house, ignoring my speech about pollination and the good bees do, too) I think I’ll wait here until you unlock the door, in case that grumpy bee is still around.
Matt: Good idea. I’ll sacrifice myself.

We were getting ready to go for a walk before dinner. Laura was doing her thing, Siena was doing her thing, I was upstairs getting dressed for it, and Elliot was by the front door, since we asked him to guard the stroller. There was a crash, followed by Elliot crying. Siena was the first one on the scene. I heard her quickly running across the hard-wood floor yelling for me to “come quick.” She was running to get Laura, too:

Siena: Mama, I have good news and bad news.
Laura: Okaaay. Is Elliot ok?
Siena: Bad news is that the coat rack has fallen on Elliot…so he’s crying…but daddy’s there.
Laura: You’re sure there’s good news?
Siena: Yes, I’m having a baby.
I guess to replace the one recently crushed by the coat rack. Elliot was fine, as the barrier of 14 coats kept the metal from smashing his skull. It was a sad sight seeing him buried under it all, though, as I could only see one little hand and a bit of his long, curly hair. I should have grabbed the camera.

Only thing you need to do when reading the following exchange is count the number of times crap is used on the way home from preschool last week…hardly any by me:

Siena: (whimpering in the back seat) Oh no…it’s crap.
Matt: (Turning head around quickly, looking at her seat) Crap? What?
Siena: Daddy, there’s bird crap on my window. Why is there bird crap?
Matt: Oh. (sigh of relief) Sometimes that happens when we leave the car out.
Siena: But dad, the bird crap is really big. We need to go to the car wash.
Matt: (hardly stifling laughter) Would you stop saying crap?
Siena: But daddy, the bird crap needs to be washed. Do you want bird crap to be on your car all night?
Matt: It might rain tonight, which will wipe the cra…wash it off.
Siena: I hope so. I don’t like looking at crap out my window.
Matt: Stop Saying Crap! Oh never mind…how was school?
Siena: (whimpering all the way home)

Final Crap Tally: 10.5

On the way home from visiting my parents this past weekend, a two hour trip:

Matt: Raise your hand if you’re going to sleep on the way home.

All in the car raise their hands, including me, so I could get Siena’s reaction. Glad I did.
Siena: Daddy, you’re driving. You can’t sleep.
Matt: But I’m tired. Maybe you can drive, and I’ll sleep.
Siena: Daddy, I can’t drive. I’m too short. And I would go to jail. I’m a kid.
Matt: Hmmm…good point. But Victoria is a kid and she was driving (Victoria is my 15-year-old niece with her permit).
Siena: But she is a big kid. I’m only little.
Matt: You could sit on the big bag we packed, then you’d be big.
Siena: Daddy, do you want the cops to pull me over and take me to jail?
Matt: I’ll drive. You sleep.

I thought it best to stop pushing there, considering her recent fears of separation.