This happened.

"Brian said that I'm a DUMB BABY."

"Did you tell him that's not very nice?"

"Yes and he just kept saying it and saying that I was a DUMB BABY."

"You know that's not true, right?  You know you're a very smart big girl, right?"

"Right. Yes. I think that he's WRONG."

It's already started.  I cried, because it's already started, and because she's so naively, beautifully self-confident and I wish I could be sure that in 10 years when they're calling her so much worse she'll have that same confidence.

I would also like to hold Brian against the wall by his neck and tell him through clenched teeth that if he ever calls my daughter a dumb baby again, he won't live to see another birthday.

Skinned knee.

It happened so fast.

I'm bored. It's nice. Let's go for a walk. She's hot. Too hot. Pants are hotter. I'll find shorts. Shorts on. Socks too hot. Put on newer shoes that she's not as used to than her sneakers (idiot). Let's go. And she's running and she's running and she's running and she's running and she's running and she's down. She cries and she shakes her leg, she shakes it and shakes it and there's blood. She's screaming and we're rushing back inside and she's screaming and screaming. Tears. Blood. Tears. Peroxide. More tears. Sippy. Ball. Backyard. Smiles and laughter.

And it was over.

But every time I look at her scabby, raw right knee, it happens all over again.

I feel like the worst mommy ever, like anyone else would have seen it coming a mile away. I feel like I can hear the voices of our neighbors watching from their windows, "Look at those assholes, that kid's going to skin her..."

Sigh.

A Mother's Woe

My daughter can...

Moo like a cow. Oo-oo-oo like a monkey. Bok-bok like a chicken. Rawr like a lion or dinosaur. Neigh like a horse (this is the cutest ever). Make her Itsy Bitsy Spider go up the water spout. Outrun me. Identify a hundred different things around the house, including specific books. Smell pretty flowers. Almost feed herself with a spoon. Give kisses and hugs on command. Say "gub-gub-gub" when she wants to read her Yo Gabba Gabba book or when it comes on TV. Throw all her stuffed animals over the baby gate into the kitchen. Walk backwards. Find her feet, belly, hair, ears and tongue, as well as other peoples' noses. Brush her teeth (with help). Dance.

My daughter cannot...

Say "mama."

Sigh.