"Pitty nazi," says a tiny voice at my feet.
"I'm sorry, what?" I say
"Pretty nazi," she repeats, gazing up at me, reaching for... my necklace.
"Yeah!" she shouts, nodding, "Mama nazi."
These days, I'm a human jukebox; a shitty one with only four songs:
1. MMM MMM (Shake it Off)
2. Whoa Whoa Whoa (Row Row Row Your Boat)
3. Doo doo doo doo (Here Comes the Sun)
4. Appy! (Happy)
Here's how it goes, every time: I ask her what song she wants to sing, she requests one of the above, I sing three words, she says NO and says the name of a different song. Around and around we go.
Rue and I listen to a lot of audiobooks on our commute to daycare. Together, we've explored the world of Seinfeld, examined the gender politics of the 2008 election, decided we are lukewarm about Padma Lakshmi, said a giant F you to cancer, and became experts on scientology and instant fans of Lindy West. Most recently, we listened to Amy Schumer's audiobook.
Here's my "I swear I'm a good parent" disclaimer: I was fully prepared to turn the book down at any super racy moments (not that I was expecting any of those from Amy), but I happened to listen to the tamer chapters in the car with Rue. The most scandalous thing we heard was the chapter where Amy examined her teenage shoplifting habit.
I glanced in the rearview mirror.
"Don't steal," I called to the back of the car.
"Rue, can you say 'don't steal.'"
"Rue. Say 'don't steal!"
"STEAL! Steal! steal! steal!"
15 minutes later
Other things I often hear from the back of the car:
1. Iwasawawa. (Translation: I want some water.)
2. Mama car. Mama car? Mama car! Mama car.
3. ALLLLLLL!! DONNNNNNNNE!! CAAAAAAAR!!
4. Outside bee! Oh no! Outside bee! (Every bug is a bee (which, in my head, I just sang to the tune of Every Rose Has its Thorn)).
3. Outside baby. Outside baby. Outside baby.
She must have said "outside baby" for ten minutes straight one afternoon after I picked her up. "I don't think there are any babies outside," I said, confused. But she persisted. I gave up. "You're right, there is a baby outside."
The next morning I asked her daycare teacher why she might have been saying that. And what do you know, in the afternoons, the baby class plays outside ("outside baby!") near where the toddlers play, and the toddlers run to the gate to watch them like zoo animals.
So. She was trying to tell me about her day. And I dismissed her. But to be fair, she could have given me a tiny bit more context.