in the mind of oona

Lucky Oona got puked on yesterday. While getting ready to leave for the day the boy whose locker is next to hers puked and it sounds like Oona and her backpack bore the brunt of the vomit. Driving the kids home I tried to breathe through my mouth to avoid the smell. But although gross, this is also somewhat exciting for Oona because it's a story to be told, where she has a starring role. I put her in the tub for an early evening shower, due to the puke, I figured it best to wash everything including her as soon as I got her home, out of the blue Oona said, "I love Grandma Cat. I ask her questions and she answers them for me." apropos nothing. I could be biased being her mom, but she'll come out with these little gems sometimes. Sure they're a bit off grammatically or round about, archaic perhaps? but that's part of their charm. Or she comes up with an entirely new and ultimately more fitting word, like booby trap for bra. She frequently says things in such a way that I'm hitting myself for not running around with pen and paper to quote her and then I'm mad I'm not a good enough writer to write a novel and pepper it with her dialogue because she is a memorable character. After she was all squeaky clean and in her favorite pj's, fleece pants that are covered in all varieties frosted and and sprinkled donuts and a purple top saying something about loving cupcakes, she hopped onto my lap while I was paying bills online, wanting to do the photo booth. She's a sucker for the effects and mirror is her favorite, which caused her to rhapsodize about how she would love to have a twin because then she would always have someone that wanted to play with her because I'm usually too busy working (ooh, little guilt dagger) and Owen doesn't like to play with her. Then she wondered aloud if her soon to be Stepmom might give her this longed for twin. I told her that twins usually come about the same time that you're born but Oona has a mind that's quick to push aside such pesky details as logic.