CootieGirl is at an age now where she should know important info like her full name, phone number, address, etc. So last night as I was putting her to bed, I began to teach her. Our last name is a tricky one, but after a handful of tries she got it. I had her run to CootieDad and say, “My name is CootieGirl _________!” Teaching her our phone number is trickier. I tried to get her to know the first three numbers – the areacode.

“The number is 8-0-3, CootieGirl. Say ‘8-0-3′.”

“Eight. Two. Free.”

“No, Eight Oh Three.”

“Eight….Two…Free.”

“No!” *laughing* “Eight OH Three.”

“Eiiiiggghhhtt. Twooooooo. FFFFFRrrrreeeeee….”

“Why do you like two so much?” I asked, still laughing.

She giggled.

“Say 8-0-3.”

“8-2-3.”

AAAAAAGGGHGHHHHH!!! This went on for a good 15 minutes. She just could not process 803 versus 823. I finally gave up.

“What’s your last name?”

“_____________________!!!!!!!” she shouted, totally getting it right.

“And what’s the number?” I asked one more time, just in case.

“EIGHT TWCootieGirlFREE!”

Just when I think that my daughter is almost perfect, she goes and pulls a Mike Tyson on her little brother and bites his ear.

I’m so not kidding.

Last night they were playing at the new house and I guess CootieGirl got sick of CootieBoy being in her face because she leaned over and bit him. CootieBoy began doing one of those silent screams until it finally became a blood-curdling sound as he gently cupped his ear in one hand and ran to me, face red, tears streaming down his face.

“WHAT DID YOU DCootieGirlTCootieGirlDUNCAN?” I bellowed at CootieGirl, not knowing at this point that she’s got a REALLY bad role model in Mr. Tyson.

“Uh…I bit him,” she replied hesitantly.

“GET OVER HERE!” I yelled, pointing at the floor directly beside me.

She got up and slowly made her way to me, coming up to be right beside me.

I gave her a stern look and said, “THIS is what happens when you BITE YOUR BROTHER,” I said, upon which I gave her a smack on her butt. Not enough to hurt, but enough to shock. I then pointed at the chair next to me and said, “Sit right there, right now.” She crawled up onto the chair and I said, “You do NOT bite your brother. I don’t care WHAT he does to you, you are NOT to bite ANYone again. Do you hear me?”

“Y-y-y-y-yes,” she said tearfully.

CootieBoy actually had TEETHMARKS on his ear.

While CootieDad got CootieBoy cleaned up and calmed down, I made CootieGirl sit in that chair for a number of minutes before telling her again that while I was VERY HAPPY that she told me the truth, my issue with her was biting her brother. She told me she wouldn’t do it again, apolgized to CootieBoy with a hug and kiss, and all was better.

Sheesh. When comes the part where they get along like best friends?

Sorry we’ve been so remiss in posting over here. With all the stuff going on related to our move tomorrow, it’s all I can do to post to Cootiehog much less the other sites we have.

Last night CootieGirl helped me with laundry. And by “help” I mean that she kept me company in the laundry room at our apartment complex since we gave up our in-apartment washer/dryer after the washer broke a couple weeks ago. We passed the time practicing silly walks (a la Monty Python). We also raced from the washers to the dryers and back, alternating our wins (she was very kind and let me win a few times – no kidding – she actually hung back specifically so that I could win – very cute when *I’M* the parent who can/won’t let her win at my whim).

Her haircut is very pretty, but much like CootieDad feared I think the tell-tale curls at the end are lost forever. Her hair is much more straight now and doesn’t curl at the bottom. Oh well – had to happen sometime, since I’m not letting her be the next Crystal Gayle. At least her haircolor is still gorgeous as ever.

Potty-training is mostly over, but she still has problems doing #2 in the potty. She really doesn’t like it at all. The only wet accidents she has now are at night – never during the day.

I love that she tells the truth. I’ve been really active in getting her to realize that it’s better to tell the truth than to lie. So when she hits CootieBoy and then blames CootieBoy when he pinches her back, I usually calmly say, “What did you do to make CootieBoy pinch you – do you do something to him?” She’ll admit what she did, at which point I tell her that’s not nice, she needs to be a good sister, and then I deal with CootieBoy and tell him the same thing. Only very rarely will CootieGirl lie – and as soon as I let her know that I know she’s lying she’ll give it up and tell me the truth. She must think I’m omniscient. At some point I’ll begin punishing her for lying by giving her a timeout, but the fact that she owns up to it right now is enough for me. I just respond and tell her it’s wrong to lie and that it hurts my feelings when she doesn’t tell me the truth. Man, that sounds so hippieish, doesn’t it?