Did you know that there are 8.8 million children (about 11 % of all children) who are not insured in the United States? It is this staggering, sad and scary statistic that gave me...
Call me Sophie
Life in a house a with three children under the age of eight is…well… a little crazy. Ok a lot crazy.
My three year old, Laurel is in a neverending very temperamental phase right now. She is testing my patience on daily basis.
She is screaming. Crying. Throwing herself on the ground. She is exhibiting very stubborn personality traits.
A LOT OF THE TIME!
I try to ignore it when I can. If I indulge her then these things last longer.
Her newest thing is a name change. She has decided that she now whats to be called Sophie. And nothing else.
However, her name is Laurel. Or RooRoo (Laurel was too hard for my daughter to say when the baby was born and this is what she came up with). Or Rooster ('cause were loons in this house).
Now everything has changed.
“Me no Lowo anymore.” (Lowo is what she calls herself because apparently no one under the age of 5 can pronounce her name either)
Me: “Oh yeah? What am I supposed to call you? Is RooRoo ok?”
“NO! Me Sophie. Just Sophie.”
Me: “Really Laurel? Why?” (I had to test her right away. That's just how I roll)
“You call me Sophie. Like Mamma Mia.” (we watch that movie way too much in this house)
Ok I am thinking I will play along with this game for a while. How long could it possibly last?
You've obviously never met my three year old.
Two days later, she is still insisting that everyone call her Sophie.
In fact, she will not answer unless we call her Sophie.
Today we had to leave to get her brother and sister from carpool at school. I told her to go put her shoes and coat on so we could go. She ran off.
Less than two minutes later I was in the kitchen getting my coat on to leave and noticed that I hadn't seen my daughter anywhere.
I quickly ran through the house and still did not find her. Now I was panicking. I saw that the front door was open a little and we live next door to a large pond.
I couldn't find her anywhere and I was really starting to get upset. I was calling for her. Looking everywhere.
I finally ran back to the house to get my phone to call my husband. There she was sitting on the couch.
My heart was racing. I was sweating profusely. You wouldn't believe the scenarios running through my mind.
Me: “Laurel what are you doing? Where were you? I was calling you and looking everywhere. Why did you scare me like that?” I may have been yelling.
“Mommy, I was right here. You called for Laurel. My name is Sophie.”
I sighed and resigned myself: “Ok Soph. Let's go.”
See how easy this is? I even already have a nickname for her new name.
DISCLAIMER: Now please don't go thinking that my three year old child actually called me the B-word. It was more of a look that she gave me. I swear she was thinking it though.