Emerson: The Princess

I realize that to fully, or even partially, understand all future posts, I must first give you all the essence of who my children are. After all, I couldn't have my "adventures" without them.

We'll start with the oldest. Emerson, or as she tells me with a hand on her hip "I NOT Emerson, Mama. I EMMY." Emmy was born in September of 2006 and promptly let us know that she was in charge. At 7 lbs, 8 oz, she screamed her little head off for the first solid 3 months of her life. Days, nights, weekends, holidays, it didn't matter. Sometimes, if we were lucky, she'd quiet down if Daddy would play some My Chemical Romance as loud as he could get it, but then no one in the house, or neighborhood, could sleep. We knew we were in trouble then.

By the time she could talk, she was already bossing us around. I caught her in the pantry when she was about 20 months pulling things off the shelf. When I scolded her, she yelled back at me "I LIKE CRACKERS!" Which, incidentally, was her first sentence. From that point on, Mike and I realized she would constantly straddle the line of praise and punishment. Excited that she had reached a milestone of stringing words together, but wanting very much to scold her even more.

Before she was 2 years old, she could manipulate most situations and come out the victor. I can't remember now what she was getting in trouble for, but she flashed those beautiful blue eyes up at her daddy, batted those long eyelashes and the next thing I heard out of his mouth was "what would you like, baby? A pony? I'll go get it right now..." A few months later, she was being awfully sweet, I hugged and said to her "Baby girl, I love you". She smiled, leaned into me and replied "I love crapolat milk". She still struggles saying "chocolate".

Now, at almost 4 years old, that kid NEVER. SHUTS. UP. EVER. Yes, yes, she's just like her Mama and boy, am I getting what I deserve, because she's usually attached to me while she's doing all this talking. I didn't think it was possible for someone to hurl a fury of words out of her mouth at such a dizzying pace. The only time that kid isn't talking or singing, she's asleep or doing something she knows she shouldn't (but we'll come back to that in the near future). Amidst all the talking, she is quite the negotiator. Somehow one minute turns into five, two animals in her bed turns into seven, and she always finds a way to pick out her own outfits. After all, who am I to tell her that pink, light up cowboy boots don't go with yellow polka-dot shorts, a purple Princess Tiana t-shirt and a baseball cap. Hey, we were just headed to the store...

Next time, we'll discuss Brinley Bear