Normally I associate guttural rantings with The Prince, usually following some sort of Maker's Mark/beer binge. A favorite (ah, warm memories) occured years ago when we lived in Oakland, California and involved the fast food joint Jack In The Box, and The Prince yelling over and over again about needing "tacos and chips!" following an evening picnic with Brazillian friends. (Do I need to write that this didn't end well?)
But this morning, the Rabbit heard me on the phone with, Yummy London Mummy (so good to hear your voice!!) and thought I was speaking about her beloved movie Totoro. She ran about chasing me, while I was on the phone, screaming in some sort of drunken-binge like rant, "ToTo-what?!? ToTo-what?!? Mommy!!!" The Prince actually had to physically pick up her shaking, twitching body and remove her to her room as nothing could force her mind off the fact that perhaps I was talking to Totoro, or there was a second film to buy, or who knows because she could do nothing but scream the same mutated phrase over and over again like some kind of possessed alien.
Finally, after a spell in her room, and I got off the phone, she emerged. "Rabbit, what did you mean by ToTo-what?" She shrugged, and responded: "Can we make pancakes?"
Scary the workings of the three-year-old mind. I can only imagine that rant will turn up, twisted into some sort "bad mama" story in therapy years from now. Fabulous.
But this morning, the Rabbit heard me on the phone with, Yummy London Mummy (so good to hear your voice!!) and thought I was speaking about her beloved movie Totoro. She ran about chasing me, while I was on the phone, screaming in some sort of drunken-binge like rant, "ToTo-what?!? ToTo-what?!? Mommy!!!" The Prince actually had to physically pick up her shaking, twitching body and remove her to her room as nothing could force her mind off the fact that perhaps I was talking to Totoro, or there was a second film to buy, or who knows because she could do nothing but scream the same mutated phrase over and over again like some kind of possessed alien.
Finally, after a spell in her room, and I got off the phone, she emerged. "Rabbit, what did you mean by ToTo-what?" She shrugged, and responded: "Can we make pancakes?"
Scary the workings of the three-year-old mind. I can only imagine that rant will turn up, twisted into some sort "bad mama" story in therapy years from now. Fabulous.
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