Marcie has mastered the word snack. She mastered it a while ago. But she's gotten pretty good at expressing her dietary desires by using it. It's the first thing she says after "guh guh" (Big Brother in Mandarin) and milk in the mornings. She even says it after breakfast. And this morning she screamed at Jason (literally) and threw herself down on the ground when he wouldn't give her more food (she'd already had a bowl of cereal with milk, two cups of milk, and half a banana).
Marcie is a child of opinion and determination. Something of a spitfire. She'll grab me by the hand and drag me all over the place, demanding my presence where she wants to be. I actually kind of like it. I like that she has opinions. I'll go out on a limb and guess that I'll like it less when she's a teenager and back-talks me (as all teenagers do). But for now, I like it. I think it's evidence of her confidence.
Anyway, in fitting with this opinionated and determined attitude, last week she followed me to the fridge while I was making lunches. I took out the lunch meat, and the mayo-- the pickles and the jelly. And when I went to close the door, Marcie squawked at me. So I let her root around for about 30 seconds, and then I told her it was time to close the door so we wouldn't waste any electricity. As I shut the door, she looked up at me and said, "Bit."
"You want bit?" I asked.
"Yup," she replied.
"Marcie, Mommy doesn't know what bit is. Can you show me?" Marcie dragged me over to the cutting board, where I was making the sandwiches and stretch her pudgy little arm up, feeling around. "Bread?" I asked, "You want bread?"
"Yup," she replied.
"Okay." I pulled out a slice of bread. "Do you want peanut butter on it?" She nodded her head yes. "Can you say peanut butter?"
"Peas," she repeated.
"Good enough," I smiled. And handed her the bread with peanut butter on it. She's getting better at saying peanut butter, though I doubt anyone but me would understand that bit and peas is bread with peanut butter. Still, she sure did enjoy her snack: