Verbal abuse

When the elders came by earlier this morning they really were looking for their lost cell phone. Silly me, I thought they were after a repeat of the verbal abuse they experienced from my two-year-old when they dropped by last night (right at bedtime, not my favorite moment for visitors, so I don't feel all that bad about this). I wrote down a few choice morsels:

• "Scawedy-cats!" (Over and over) (She had heard her brothers get in a fight over this one and knew it was an insult)
• "I'm gonna gi'you a whuppin'!" (confession: we taught her this one so she could say it to Dr. G's dad when he came for commencement last month. Now we reap the whirlwind.)
• "Shut up!" (She has been watching a lot of "Annie" lately and is quite impressed with Miss Hannigan, whom she calls "Annie's bad teacher")
• "Do you have undopants, or pull-ups?"

Poor missionaries. Or, as Z calls them, "sissonawies."

In truth, she has a massive crush on them. A few weeks ago in sacrament meeting she was begging me to let her "touch sissonawies." Then she was yelling at them across the chapel overflow (where we sit to minimize disruptions): "Poopooheads!"

Watch out, boys. That's all I can say.