At the breakfast table
Gracie: “Mama? Sumpin’ stinks me.”
Me: “Something stinks you?”
Gracie: “No.” She tries to clarify. “I stink sumpin’.”
Me: “You smell something?”
Gracie: “Yeah. Sumpin stinky.”
Me: "What is it?”
Gracie: “I think maybe it’s me.”
In the van
Ethan is making high-pitched squealing noises for some reason. Abby demands that he stop. This causes him to make more noises, louder.
Gracie: “Don’t fight about sumpin’ in the van Ethan!”
Ethan doesn’t respond.
Gracie: “DON’T FIGHT ABOUT SUMPIN’ IN THE VAN ETHAN!”
The noises stop. But the three-year-old is not finished with the nine-year-old.
Gracie: “Okay?”
No response.
Gracie, even louder: “Okay?! O-KAY-UH?!”
Ethan, defeated: “Okay!”
Gracie sighs loudly for effect, like a frustrated parent.
Pause
Gracie, cheerfully: “Sowwy (sorry) Ethan!”
Abby jumps in eagerly: “That’s OK, Gracie.”
Gracie, impatient, yells: “I WASN’T TALKING TO YOU ABBY, I WAS TALKING TO ETHAN!”
Silence. No one is safe from the little dictator.
Gracie, engrossed and then defeated: “There’s sumpin’ wrong with my tights. They’re not shiny.”
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