Baby Talk

 I have many pressing things tonight, the least of which is a blog entry, but seeing as I will forget this dear conversation with the Littlest One, I should take care to record it.


 We started out by talking about Donny Yodel. "Do you know where she is?" I asked her.
 "Yah. Donny fwy 'way. Go up in aw- aw- AWRpwane an fwy far 'way. Fwy up to Daddy."

To Daddy, is it? For quite awhile she has called Jesus Daddy. And she already told me she thought dear Donny was dead. But that she flew up to heaven in an airplane?
 "Yah. Go up in sky, fwy up to Daddy."
 "When is she coming back?"
 "Ohh, ten day."
 Meaning to correct her, I asked if she knew Donny would be back in about two weeks, about fourteen days.
 "No!" Was her reply. "I say ten day!!"

 I proceeded to ask the little princess if she knew what Donny and Daddy were doing.
 "Ohhh, eat berries." She furrowed her brow and peered upward. "Let me see. There aminals. Pwetty puppy, howrse, an - an - wow yion!!" (Her 'l's are 'y's.)
 "Do you ever plan to go to see Daddy?"
 "Fwy up in awpwane, see Daddy."
 "What will you do with Him?"
 She looks at me, her undisguised bliss almost hiding a brief look of bewilderment that seemed to say, what, don't you know?. "Daddy pway wif me!" Of course. Jesus will play with her. I should've known better, but I had to ask,

"Play what?"
 "Pway puppy wif me!"
 I didn't leave it at that. "Who's gunna be the puppy, you or Daddy?"
 "Daddy pway puppy wif me!"
 Needless to say, that was that.
 I thought a moment.

 "Do you like dragons?"
 She thought a moment.
 "No. Dra-yee meem!"
 "Ohhh. No, really? I know nice dragons."
 She hesitated. "Ah have purple dra-yee."
 "Oh really?"
 "Purple dra-yee nice...." She held it in her hands, cradeling it lovingly. "Meem dra-yees tum, blah' meem dray-ees." Black. When she makes that certain cut-off sound with her tongue, I know she's cutting off consonants. It almost makes her sound like she's saying 'blaht'. "Blah' dra-yee tum, I fight! Det my sword, fight dra-yee! Dra-yee get sword, too! We fight! Tut, tut, tut, tut, bam, bam, bam, bam, yah, yah, yah.... I fight, I dead all meem blah' dra-yee. My purple dra-yee fight. More dra-yee tum, all blah' dra-yees. Poor white dra-yee, is your dra-yee. Is dead. Meem dra-yee kill poor white dra-yee. Oh, my poor purple dra-yee. Purple dra-yee dead, too. Meem blah' dra-yee kill purple dra-yee. So sad." She had the saddest face on ever. "I make holes, bury meem dra-yee. Bury wow dra-yee."
 "You mean you're burying them?"
 "Yah!" Her voice was distainful. "They dead!"


 Poor dra-yees. I should've known the play would turn out a little lopsided. Not exactly what I expected, anyway. Poor dra-yees.