Ryrie's Fouth Birthday

As it was the fourth birthday of my youngest sister the other day, I have undertaken to create a blog post of pictures and quotes of the little miss. Enjoy. :)

Rye; Guess what??? I have fwee brovers now! Mitul, Yaty, and untle Paul! And Aunt Janet is my oldest sister!

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Ryrie: "I'm luhning how to talt wite! I used to say 'buhsketti', and now I say 'beesketti'!"

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I commented about something I had being taken, then someone else taking it back and giving it to me. Rye looked at me sternly. "That was stealing! That was stealing two times! In the Bible it says not to steal!"

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I ask Rye what she's gonna be when she grows up.

Rye: Noffing. I dust dunna have a farm and tate walts with evyone, and be fwiends wif evyone.

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The Gentleman Prince and Ryrie are playing nicely in the den. I ask Rye how much they love each other. She looks up at me, her long eyelashes blinking soberly. "To die," she said without hesitation. "We brother and sister."

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Lately, little miss Rye has been thinking about lying. Whenever she believes we have told a lie, or whenever she overheard any talk about lying, she comes into the room with a prophet-of-doom look on her face, and says, "You know what happens to wiars?! Dey dow to hewll!" Just this morning, I had the opportunitt to turn the tables on her. I was brushing my teeth, and I put the toothpaste cap on the sink counter. Rye quickly snatched it up and put it behind her back.

"Where it dow?" She asked me. "Your toofpaste tap dust disappeawed!"

I pointed out the obvious, being that she took it and that she had it in her hands behind her back. I even peeked back behind her to prove it. But nope, she even denied that I was truly able to see her hands -

"You tant see my hands cause they disappeawed." It went on for some time. It was funny.

As she returned the cap, and left the bathroom, she gave me her cutest scathing look - "I not doeing to hewll!"

I never said it!

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Hana, to Ryrie at dinner - "Hold your horses!"

Rye: My horses are hundry and they don't wanna be held! They want you to hurry!

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Ryrie: This is my bike. He is also a pony. His name is Pokey. He mostly obeys me. I tell him to stop, and he mostly stops.

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Ryrie's ingenuity is shown in the names of her animals, or as she calls them, friends. Big Fat Wow, Soapy Purple Snuggles, Lion, Puppy... "Them my friends!"

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I told Ryrie that I'm afraid I can't fix something she broke, and she scowled at me scornfully. "You a bad mother then!"

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Ryrie, playing tea party with herself and some invisible friends: *gulps some pretend tea, then pretends to be one of the other ladies at the tea party, and says* "Do /not/ sippes your tea like dat! It not ladylike! Only men sippes their tea like dat."

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Rye: I teep /thwettin/... I tant sleep...

Me: stop sweating then.

Rye, close to tears: I /tant/! I still have my soul in me!

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Ryrie was trying to impress me with how long she was gonna live; "I'm gonna live till I DIE!"

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Rye is such a girl. -.- When looking into her full closet at her clothes, she says in a wail, "I have /nuthy/ to wear!"

When sick and throwing up, she says thoughtfully, "Please tate a piture of me, so I tan see what I loot lite when I frow up."

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Muscles are a constant fascination with the two youngest. They sat at the dinner table discussing like so:

Rye: I /wuv/ beef stroganoff so mut! It mayte me helfy. An gives me big muscles!

Michael: You even like the /mushrooms/?!

Rye: Yup! They give me big muscles! *thoughtfully chewing her food for a moment then squeezing her little fist and feeling her bicep* I know they helfy; I even feel the mushrooms in dere!

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Ryrie, sitting in the kitchen all alone, looking at a box of cocoa puffs: I wuv oo! I... I wuv oo! I not have oo fuh a wong time, maybe a weet! Wow!

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Ryrie came in to hug me goodnight... I told her I love her so much I could just eat her up. Frowning, she returned, "Oh no, don't do that! Then you would have no baby! And no sister. Besides, there's the bones in me, and the blood."

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In a common game between the two of them, in which the other characters were several stuffed dogs, the following was said. Makes me wonder how much the little ones understand the midwifery related issues they may hear so much of.

Ryrie: My dog has real sickness!

Joey: Oh! He has a bad case of C-section!

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These are ones Donny wrote down....

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Rye: I wu~v beeng wescued when I fawll into zu late. Zat vay I don't det eaten by vales.
Me: I think you'd drown before being devoured by whales, dear.
Rye: ........ Danny. Zat vuld be /dying/.

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Rye: *cuddling against me as she nibbles apricots* I have a plan. Ev'vy day you pay me and /zen/ you tan rest.
Me: Oh really? What am I supposed to be paying you?
Rye: Oh~, yoo tan pay me two of yoor monees and zen I don't need to have anymore dat day an' you tan rest. *continues calmly* Yoo shuld pay me right away tuz yoo haven't paid me for a long time.

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Captured while escaping from the basement after protesting the necessity of using the bathroom before taking a nap, Moriah ended up slung upside-down over Aunt Mouser's shoulder; as the blood rushing to her head flushed her face a deep red she announced calmly, "Now you tan't det away fwom me."

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Yay for weird and random dinner conversations between tiny siblings?

Rye: *to Mom, grouchily, after being offered cole slaw* I don' /vunt/ that.
The Gentleman Prince: She just wants ice cream.
Rye: I do~.
G.P.: Yes. *calmly* I know your mind.
Rye: *with ardent charm* I /wuv/ yoo.
G.P.: *matter-of-factly, as he stuffs his mouth with spaghetti* No you don't. You hate me.
Rye: Well, I wemember yoo my bwuvver.
G.P.: *pauses, then says thoughtfully* I should stop licking you, cause I get thousands of your skin cells in my mouth when I do that and that's just gross.

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Rye: I'm /tollld/ down here. Dis basement /tolllllld/.
Mom: *shivering* Yes, I'm cold too.
Rye: Are you told too, Danny?
Me: Mhm.
Rye: You is told and Mom is told and me is told tus we all in zu bafsement. *offers a huge cheesy grin* Izn't dat funny? 
Me: *grinning at her* You make it funny.
Rye: *smugly* Dat is my PLANNN.

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Ryrie: Mom, tan we watch more movies?
Mom: No, Moriah, if you spend too much time watching movies your brain will turn mushy. 
Ryrie: *calmly* I have no brain. Tan we watch more movies now?

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Ryrie has grasped early the concept of what constitutes satisfying conversation. In the minutes after I slipped into her room for huggles, as we sat cross-legged on the four-poster bed and faced each other:

Rye: Let's talt tooddedder.
Me: We /are/ talking.
Rye: *severely* No, let /me/ talt.

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