Helen is four today. She was three yesterday. She’s very impressed with this fact.

In typical four-year-old fashion, she was ALL about the presents. Kept asking for more presents. Was disappointed when the last of the presents was given, even though it was “what I asked for!!!” — a Power Rangers Morpher. Jerry carefully installed batteries in it last night so that it would beep and click and whirr and the voice would say its little phrases, and Helen freaked out a little bit. She doesn’t like toys that talk. Alice received a singing puppet last year and Helen was (and is) terrified of it. Alice loves that toy but we have to hide it or Helen has nightmares.

Even though Jerry turned off the batteries in what should have been Helen’s favorite toy of the day, she’s afraid of it and won’t play with it.

This child also dislikes pizza, and won’t drink anything carbonated. I think she’s defective.

Not sending her back, though. I’ve gotten kind of attached. Even to her bedtime stalling….
“What’s the question, Helen?”
“I love you.”
“That’s not a question.”
“Good night, Helen.”
“WAAAAAAIT!!! What’s your favorite color?”
“No, it ISN’T. It’s BLUE.”
“OK, then, it’s blue.”
“But you said it was green!”
“Good NIGHT, Helen, Little Miss Bossypants.”

If we make it five minutes between times that Helen emerges from her room with another “question,” we know she’s done for the night. Unless there are nightmares. The times that we have to comfort her when she’s having nightmares can be sweet, though — Helen’s not particularly cuddly EXCEPT when she’s been having nightmares. So we get to snuggle with her those nights. I don’t wish nightmares on her, but I never mind comforting her.

I can’t believe I’ve been a mommy for four years. My entire world is different. Newer. Better.

And in some ways, I agree with Helen. Talking toys ARE kind of creepy.