Conversations with a 4 Year Old- aka I am so ready to be a mom

Last evening R and I met some friends and their 4 year old granddaughter, B, for dinner. B brought along all of her my little ponies and I had a blast coloring with her and helping her "feed" the ponies some of the carrot sticks that came with B's chicken strip meal. After dinner was over, B stated that she "really truly wished she could sleep over our house tonight." Of course, we all know that her wish to sleep over would come to an abrupt end about twenty minutes after she came to our house (she is, after all, 4), so her grandmother and I tried to both acknowledge her wish and convince her that it was really better if she slept at Grandma and Boppa's house, and that we would set a date later in the summer for her to come spend the day here with me.

B was having none of it. For one, she was very tired and therefore in a stubborn, yet whiney, mood. Also, she is very precocious and countered everyone of our "arguments" with a very endearing, eye lash batting, head ducking into my shoulder (I was carrying her at this point) sweet voiced little refrain: "Oh, but if I don't sleep over tonight, I will never not ever have a chance again, and that would make me so very sad."

So, we arrived at a compromise. B would ride to our house with us, and Grandma and Grandpa would come pick her up in a little while, and we would make plans to have a super duper sleep over at our house this summer, with a princess tent thrown in for good measure (I am a sucker for the eyelash batting routine). So, we moved the booster seat to our car, grabbed the backpack with all the little ponies in it, and headed to our house.

B dearly loves Ben and Bogey, and so we spent the first five minutes or so talking about the dogs and watching them tear around the house in wild abandon- so thrilled they were to have someone new in their house.

Then, B found the baby's room (still not put together after the move, but that is another post) and, to her great delight, discovered the big red fire engine pedal car tucked into the corner. With its flashing red light and loud silver bell it is simply irresitable to B. So, Bailey climbs in, we wheel it out into the hallway, and R "helps" (i.e. pushes) B drive it down the hallway into the living room.

We then spent about twenty minutes playing "Fire Engine"......we fixed 10 flat tires (using a basting syringe as a tire pump), checked the oil 5 or six times (using a the broken end of a wooden spoon as a dipstick), and filled the gas tank 12 times (using the basting syringe as a gas pump). We also saved six kitties stranded in high trees using the ladders and put out two fires. Oh, and we also brought the little Red Ryder ride-on fire engine (designed for two year olds) to use as a back up fire truck for the ponies to ride on, so that we could still help people while the big engine was "gettin fixed."

Sure enough, about twenty minutes into the visit, B says rather nonchalantly "I wonder when Grandma and Boppa are coming."

So, I sneak away and call my friends and tell them B is asking for them, and if they really loved me they would come to get her before we hit the crying stage.

Grandma and Boppa arrive about five minutes later (they live just down the street from me) and B spent a few minutes showing off the fire engine and, as she left with them, demanded that we make sure to check the tires and the oil and the gas tank so that when she comes back to play the fire engine is ready to go.

As I was playing with B, watching her "ride" the fire engine and save the stranded kitties in the trees, I couldn't help but wonder if someday we would be watching our own little guy playing so happily with the fire engine, a basting syringe, a broken wooden spoon "dipstick", and little wooden ladders perfect for saving kitties stuck in trees.

Watch, my kid will hate fire engines and will turn the wooden dipstick into a toy gun. which he will use to shoot chippies and other random animals hiding in trees.

I don't care. I am just so ready to be a mom.