Lately Shelby has shown an increasing interest in time. She looks at her "watch" and asks "What time it is?" Which is interesting because neither Tim nor myself wear a watch. Usually she announces it is "45" and time to do something.
She projects her plans in a timeline, listing what she is going to do in amazingly accurate order. Sometimes spanning several days. Though sometimes the things that she thinks fit into a day aren't really feasible. I'm sure when she suggested she and Daddy go hiking in the Boundary Waters after gymnastics, she just didn't realize how long it takes to drive from a far southern state to one of our northernmost territories. "Far far away" is GiGi and Dude's home in East Texas.
The other day she complained that her hand was red and hurt. When Daddy asked her what happened, she explained that she had "done knuckles" [I miss when she called it "pickles"] with the wall but that "three hours ago" it didn't hurt and wasn't red. "But now the wall scraped it and it hurts."
She couldn't tell us what she and the wall were celebrating. And I have no idea where three hours came from but there it is.
Just yesterday she was on the play-phone and eavesdropping I heard "30 HOURS? Ok, ok Mom. That's a LONG time. You just listen to me like that."
After she hung up, I asked who she was talking to and she said Daddy. Uh oh, Mommy might have been a bad example of how to talk on the phone to Daddy!
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