Ellen-isms

The next edition ...

Ellen, chasing me around her room, "Tag! You're right!"

In the car ...
Ellen always asks me to tell her stories. They usually involve some terrible combination of skeletons / mummies / bad guys / trips in the ambulance. Morbid, that one. (Though I did finally convince her to tell ME a story and she started with "Once upon a time, there was a farmer with 40 chickens ...)
So one night on our way home from dinner I just couldn't muster the energy to tell my 15th story. I said, "Once upon a time there was a little girl named Ellen. She was a real stinkeroo. The end."
"MOM! That's not a story - that's a commercial!"

The other day Erik teasingly told Ellen, "That's a No, No!"
And later she was doing something and said, "Dad! This is a Yes, Yes!"

Ells singing ...
"Eeeny, meeny, miny, mo
Ketchup Tiger by my toe
If you holler I don't care
I'll pull down your underwear"




(not quite right ...)

Also, related: if she has to make a choice between two items she will perseverate and go back and forth and back and forth and then when she finally chooses she will point and say, "MO!"


"Mom, I've been thinking ... since my name is sooooo little, I think we should add some more letters"

Ellen cooking in her playroom kitchen ...
"Mom, what do you want for dinner?"
Well, what are my choices?
"Pizza, pasta fagioli, lemon meringue pie or Justin Beaver." 

I like to convince Ellen to play beauty parlor with me. This involves me sitting on the couch and she fusses over me and brushes my hair and puts on jewelry and such. It's kind of like going to the salon for a facial and an up-do, but not really like that at all. It does keep her occupied, though, for a decent amount of time. Tonight she brought all her "supplies" in to the family room in her baby stroller ... "Mom - this dull bozer is really full of stuff."

And, finally, Erik and I are constantly reminding Ellen to say Please and Thank You. It's really just second habit to correct her, so now I do it to other people's children too. Sorry about that. Tonight we tucked her into bed and she demanded, "give me my waffles!" (waffle-y baby blanket). Erik corrected her - "give me my waffles, please.".
"Oh, yeah, Dad. I just never remember to say please. I wonder why that is?"