"Mom, pull my finger"

I never set out to raise a Girly-Girl. I was never one myself, so why raise one. That said, I certainly didn't set out to raise a Grody Girl. (Sidenote: Is grody even a word outside of the late 80s/early 90s? And if it is, is that how you spell it?) Regardless, it appears that I indeed have a Grody Girl on my hands.

Tonight when I was helping Sweetie put all of the crayons back in the box, she turned to me, held out her finger with its 1/2-painted pink nail, and said, "Mom, pull my finger." I looked at her a minute, calculating. I know what's supposed to happen when I pull her little finger. But does she know what's supposed to happen when I pull her finger? And if she does HOW does she know that?! So, I tested the waters. I pulled her finger. And, yes, she certainly does know what's supposed to happen.

So, being the pillar of manners that I am, I coughed and ran out of the room before I could break out laughing at the shock of my little 3-year-old Sweetie moving wind on a wim. I returned promptly, of course, telling her that I had to leave because of the stink and because people do not like to be around other people who cannot control their bodily functions (or, in this case, those who can control their bodily functions all too well).

Upon further thought, I didn't even need to ask who taught her this new skill: J, now to be called, He Who Is Undermining My Manners Lessons (HWIUMML)

And lest you think this is not a big deal, I will only briefly mention the dried nose-pickings we found on the wall when putting her to bed last week. She apparently sees no problem in trying to fill the small indentation in the wall near her bed.

Well, Grody Girl, be gone! I am setting out to reform the little missy ASAP. Of course, I may first need to deal with HWIUMML himself. Wish me luck! And, just because I can't resist, here's my soon-to-be-reformed-Grody Girl. Today's thankful 3:
1. New scholastic books to read.
2. That clean-child smell when they're fresh out of the tub.
3. My girl, grody or not.