I am so continuously astounded by Sabrina's ability to speak that I sometimes let it override the need to address her inappropriate responses.
Me: "No, you can't watch a second Spongebob Squarepants!"
Sabrina, angrily: "YOU CRACK!"
Me: Laughing at the made-up curse she has just hurled at me.
Me: "OK, it's really late. It's time to go so sleep now."
Sabrina: "No thank you."
Me: Doing everything I can not to erupt into a fit of giggles.
Me: "Stop making those spit bubbles right now. You are driving me a little crazy."
Sabrina: "Are you driving the little car or the big car?"
Me: "The big car!" I say, smiling, spit bubbles suddenly forgiven.
And so on and so on. This ordinary-kid blather seems like anything but ordinary to me. After seven years of speech therapy for Max, and the Dynavox, and all that we've done to encourage Max to articulate sounds, the ability of my other child to talk seems downright miraculous.
And so, rather than put my wise-ass little girl in her place, I am sometimes literally rendered speechless by admiration. I know that cracking up when she says something fresh is not a Good Thing, but I just can't help it.
I assume that the charm will eventually wear off, especially if she gets any more obnoxious.
I assume she will not grow up and blow spit bubbles on job interviews.
For now, I will try my best to enforce a little more discipline. But I am a fool for the love of her speech.
