More Adventures in the Mind of a Four-Year-Old

Savannah has thoroughly enjoyed the Christmas season this year. Santa and her family loaded her up with gifts, some so large, we're going to rearrange her bedroom to get them in. On Christmas morning, she was careful to learn who had given her each gift, so that she could give them a hug before opening it.

We spent most of the 26th on the road to the sprawling metropolis of Luverne, Alabama. There we gathered with Kelli's extended family for a little feast and a round of Dirty Santa. I left with a fishing pole and Kelli with a basket of bath goodies. (She had her mitts on some Altec Lansing computer speakers and a DVD of "Cinderella Man," but lost them both. We were the mean people who contributed lame gifts -- a Waterpik flosser and a nose/ear hair trimmer. I told everyone the latter had only been used once -- on my bikini area.

Savannah had a blast playing with her cousins. She was completely exhausted by the time we hit the road for home. That, combined with no nap, made for an interesting drive. Sitting in the back, playing with her new Leapster L-Max (think PSP for the pre-school set,) she would get very frustrated with herself whenever she made a mistake. That frustration led to a round of sweeping proclamations: "this thing is making me mad, and when I get home, I'm going to right to bed with my shoes on and I'm never getting up ever again!"

While watching "March of the Penguins," she inexplicably lashed out at Morgan Freeman's narration about the pairing up of male and female Emperor penguins at the bottom of the world: "I don't like this movie. It's not for girls. It's for boys. It has males and females in it. And when I get home, I'm going to get up tomorrow and I'm going to have a yard sale and I'm going to sell all my stuff because it's not good for me." Kelli and I, of course, laughed. You try not laughing at a diatribe that begins with concerns about the appropriateness of male and female penguins for viewing by little girls and ends with plans for a massive rummage sale.

Our amusement only brought on more ire: "It's not funny!"
"What's not funny, Savannah?"
"When I say I'm going to sell everything, it's not funny!"
"But the way you said it was funny."
"Well, when I get home, I'm going to have a yard sale and I'm going to sell all of your stuff, because you're being mean to me!"

Kelli managed to salvage her things, but mine were apparently headed for the auction block. Soon thereafter, she finally dozed off. The key was getting her to shut her trap long enough to fall asleep -- no small feat.

Last night, Savannah and my mom were putting together puzzles on the kitchen table. My dad entered and made a comment about them not knowing what they were doing. Without missing a beat, Savannah snapped back, "I don't know how you can call yourself a Paw-Paw." I don't know how long she had been waiting to use that little gem, but am I glad she did! Now if we can just find a way to channel all this creativity and word play into a lifelong passion, we'll have gone a long way toward being the parents we've always wanted to be. The reality, of course, is that we will probably screw these kids up along the way. At least they'll get their money's worth out of their therapy.

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• Family