More Sophie Says

There are conversations that I have had with Sophie that either amuse or astound me. Here are two conversations that I've shared with her over the past few days:

Conversation One: On Girly-Girlishness
Scenario: I am dressing up for an event. 

Sophie: (Eyeing me critically) Mom, change your clothes.
Me: (Puzzled) Why, what's wrong with it?
Sophie: Just change your clothes, Mom!
Me: (Defensive) But I like what I'm wearing!
Sophie: It's not complicated enough, Mom. I want you to be fancy. (She chooses a dress for me to wear.) Wear this.
Me: (Resigned) Fine. (I change into her suggested outfit.)
Sophie: (Clapping her hands, her eyes lighting up) That's so much better, Mom! I want you to always look fancy.

Overheard

Whether it's the supersonic hearing that is automatically activated when one's offspring is on the loose or the power of clear, youthful lungs, I frequently hear Sophie's conversations with her neighborhood friends as she plays outside. Here are two conversations heard this weekend:

Conversation Number One: On Crushes

Neighborhood Friend One: Sophie, put your hands out.

Sophie: Like this?

Neighborhood Friend One: No, like this.

Sophie: Okay. (Is silent. I suppose she's figuring it out.) Like this?

Neighborhood Friend One: Yes. (Speaking quickly) Who's your crush? Who's your crush?

Sophie: (Laughing) Owwwwwwwwwwwwwwww! That hurts!

Neighborhood Friend One: Who's your crush? Who's your crush? Who's your crush?

Sophie: (Still laughing) Owwwwwwwwwwwwww! Stop squeezing my fingers!

Neighborhood Friend One: Tell me! WHO'S YOUR CRUSH?

Sophie: This is so funny!

Neighborhood Friend One: But who's your crush? Who's your crush? WHO'S YOUR CRUSH?

Sophie: Owwwww! (Shrieking) But what's a crush? Is it something funny?

Neighborhood Friend One: (Sounding deflated) Oh never mind.

Pipo would be terribly happy about how that conversation turned out. I was quite amused.  Mental note to self to explain to her what a crush is. She has crushes, quite a number of them actually, but doesn't know what they're called. 

Sophie's Art Workshop

"Come on kids, let's do art!" Sophie shouted. She was playing with her neighborhood friends inside our compound.

Art work by Sophie and friends :-)

In the house, I groaned. My little girl was a ringleader who enjoyed rounding up willing kids and bringing them into the house to play with her toys, decorate masks, make stick puppets, or whatever inspired her at that particular moment. The kids in the neighborhood were well acquainted with our "art cabinet," a small cabinet with paper, scissors, glue, sequins, feathers, embellishments, and other art materials, and welcomed any chance to come into the house to participate in our little arts and crafts activities.

I was looking forward to a relaxed, quiet Saturday morning. Much of my work happens on weekends, thus a free Saturday was a rare gift, and highly treasured and appreciated. I had planned on sleeping in, or curling up in the sofa with a cup of coffee and a good book. That's not going to happen now, an inner voice whispered. Oh well.

Funny Car Conversations

Sophie and her Papa!

The three of us were in the car the other day. We had just passed a billboard of Zac Efron, and Sophie said that she liked him. When I asked if she found him handsome, her answer was yes. This prompted me to ask another question, which then sparked a series of hilarious conversations:

Part 1

Me: Sophie, is Papa handsome?

Sophie: Just a little bit.

Pipo: A little bit? Why just a little bit?

Sophie: (smugly) Because I'm prettier!

Pipo: Fine.

On Tocino Smells and Gratitude

A few days ago I had a bad bout with the flu. While I am usually a morning person who gets up first in our household, there was one particular morning where I could not move nor open my eyes, I felt so drained and weak. I distantly discerned my husband speaking to me, but all I heard were slurred, unintelligible sounds uttered in painful slow motion and robotic intonation.

I drifted off into a feverish sleep. Soon after, I was woken up by a little girl who shook my shoulders and said quite urgently, “Mom, wake up.”

I squinted. Between slits, I saw an earnest, set little face. Sophie usually is quite chirpy and bubbly in the morning, so something must have been up. I struggled to get up. I forced my eyelids open and looked at her. Her eyes were as wide as saucers.

“Yes, Soph?” I asked.

“Mom, we have a big problem. Huge.” She said dramatically.

I fought the urge to laugh. She really was a drama queen. (I wonder whom she gets it from?)  “What is it this time, Soph? Mom’s sick.” I said sternly.

“Mom, you have to get up now. Our whole house stinks.” She pulled my hand as she said this.

Our Choice for Sophie

Me and my beautiful, perfect little girl (who will also be my student very, very soon!)

After months of exploring school possibilities for Sophie (she is incoming Grade One), my husband and I have chosen the exciting, awesome, petrifying option of homeschooling her.

You see, Sophie is one the most fantastically creative people I have ever met. Yes, part of this is biased because I am her mother, but it does not take away from its truth. She comes up with songs and raps in an instant, stages her own fairytale stick puppet shows in our living room, choreographs and directs (she's a tyrant when directing me and her Tita Ninang in her very own dance extravaganzas/ house shows). She will think up creative movement pieces in the mall and insist that I be her dance partner (whether these entail me lifting her in the midst of a crowd or bumping sides with her while lined up at an ATM machine doesn't matter). She will break the routine of her Kumon drills by coming up with story lines about the pictures in her worksheets. 

She is a creative force of nature. She is talented, bubbly, and full of life. She also was diagnosed with a speech delay at the age of three, and is a late reader.