Paige has recently been obsessed with a few things. Totally normal things:
1. Jail
I think the jail thing started after we went to Skyline Taverns. Afterwards, we were driving around a small town and we passed the jail. Either Dave or I were like, "oh, the jail..." and thus started Paige's hang-up with jails. She puts everything in jail. For example, I'll say, "Paige, will you put the peanut butter away (let's face it, they eat PB&J more than I will admit)?" She says (to the peanut butter), "You're going to jail." Then puts it in the cabinet. She puts Izzy in "jail" (her crate) every time we leave the house, and tells her what her indiscretion was that put her there. I used to find dolls and other toys in Izzy's "jail" also, so we had to institute a "no-playing-with/in-Izzy's-crate" rule. So now the dolls are put in dresser drawers, their personal jail. Paige has also started pocketing small toys from her daycare and bringing them home, so I was all, "you know people go to jail for STEALING other people's things," to get her to stop this bad habit (her teacher and I also pat her down before she leaves). Unfortunately, this may have only encouraged her, because she was like, "oh, I can see the inside of jail?"
2. The tires on my car
My tires are worn down. I know this. My car is also about to die after 9 wonderful years of carting me around. So I held off on getting new tires because I wanted to see if my car would even outlive them. Well, the tires are now unsafe, the car is still running (kind-of) and Walmart is going to have a Black Friday special (guaranteed for an hour!!) on tires, so I'll get them about 50% off. Paige asks about my tires 20-50 times a day and whether I snuck off to get new tires without telling her. She doesn't want me to get new tires because she "loves" my current ones. She apparently had a dream last night that I got new tires and she was sad.
3. Monsters/Witches and their Brews
We often play a game where I am apparently a monster, and the girls run screaming anytime they see me. I am also supposed to roar when they see me, which I sometimes do. However, if I am not enthusiastic enough about my roar, I am scolded by a 4 year old for not doing it right. She also talks a lot about witches and what they put in their brews (I'm not sure where this one came from). The other day they were studying Indians at her school, and she came home and was all, "Where do Indians live?" I said, "Some live together on reservations." She says, "Oh, maybe they drank a witches brew and the witch turned them into real people and they live right here." Uh, okay, guess my answer was wrong.
Rylie, on the other hand, has her own things going on. She dances and stares at herself in mirrors, wears footie jajamas to bed, told Paige today to take her fingers out of her mouth because, "only peakut butter sammiches go in there," and is terrified of public restrooms (did I mention she's potty trained?!?!). I'd like to personally thank Uncle Andrew for passing on that final trait.
