Our Funny Girl

Without a doubt, Marissa makes us laugh all the time with her little antics. (By the way, don't you love her eyes in this photo?? I had to edit out some snot under her nose, though.)

This morning I had to run a few errands and decided to take Marissa with me. Usually Lindsey gets to go because she's older and a bit better behaved, but since it was just me and just one kid, I figured Marissa could go along, she's got to learn eventually not to touch every breakable thing in a store.

She and I went to the post office to mail a package and she had everyone in line smiling, she was just so happy to be in line! She was giggling and making little happy exclamations for no apparent reason. Wow! 'Tis the season, but for her "tis the season" is 12 months out of the year.

Then we went to a consignment shop to see if they would sell a coat for me. As we were leaving the store Marissa says to me, "No go home." So we hit one more store nearby, just for fun.

The name of the store was "Shop in the City," a little eclectic boutique of all kinds of things -- really expensive local designers ($78 for a silk shirt that I would sweat through in 2 minutes??) to stationery products, soaps, lotions, books, handbags and purses and all kinds of things. They had a car air freshener there that smells like "cat butt" and is a cartoon of a cat...from behind. Right next to that $78 silk shirt.

So at any rate, we're going through this store and Marissa is enamored with the Vera Bradley bags. She pulls five of them out and counts them - "one...three...four...five!" Then she says, "I put back" and she meticulously puts all five of them back. She mistakenly brushes up against one or two strangers thinking they are me and doesn't seem to care. That's the same kind of thing that used to send Lindsey scurrying in shyness to me at that same age -- Marissa's attitude seemed to be, "So I touched your coat; deal with it, I'm a kid."

Finally I decide we've checked out this store long enough and we need to go home. Marissa apparently disagrees as she runs from me and hides in a little nook with all of these very expensive clothes. I make my way to her, and then find the reason why she wanted a little corner.

"Poop in pants," she says to me.

I say, "Marissa, did you just poop in your pants??"

She breathes in through her nose very deeply, then says, "Mells good."

So we get her mittens on and off we go, back home to change. Once we get home she announces to Wayne, "I poop in pants -- mells good!"

Not sure where she got this one, apparently her own poop smells good to her. Ugh.