Yesteryda my daughter argued vehemently with me that spaceships go into "outor space". I used to correct her when she was wrong about a particular word. But that was when she couldn't spell very well so it would just end up with her mouthing the word back to herself and then angrily telling me I was wrong. Fine examples being her insistence that molten lava comes out of a, "bolcano" and that I sometimes play the "gintar". But now she can spell. She can write anything you explain and can read most things to determine what they say. So after saying "outor space" I told her helpfully that it is actually "outer space". She argued with me and accused me lying. So I wrote it down. Nope - she pointed out I can't spell because it's supposed to be, "outor".
Thing is now it's my responsibility to tell her flat out when she's wrong lest that single instance be the reason that she develops a stunted vocabulary with bastardized words in it that are clearly pronounced incorrectly. In other words like she lives in central NY. So I put my foot down and told her it definitely is "outer space" and I won't hear any more about it. I reveled in that victory all day long. That was until later on in the day when she asked me to look at the, "papor" that she drawn on. It wasn't a one off - she was intentionally trying to win me up! How can she be that old already?! The icing on the cake was at 5.30pm when she declared loudly that, "it's time for dinnor!" Not only that she's really over-emphasizing the weird Savannah-drawl that has her somehow inserting 4 syllables into the word "and". It's like living with Crabtree from Allo Allo. Even her mother laughed at her deviousness. Which I think means I now will endure intentionally horrific pronunciations until the day we send her off to join the French Foreign Legion.
Actually one thing I am happy about is that my daughter thinks patches on clothes are amazing.I remember being able to buy patches that were allegedly cool - with phrases and pictures and whatnot on them- when I was younger. And that for a short time teenagers like me wore patches on their denim jeans/jackets with the names of favorite bands on them. But these ones are just bland-colored ones from a bulk JoAnn Fabrics mending kit. But she still thinks they're amazing. Which is useful because she's going through the knees of pants like her knees excrete acid. And - amusingly - her school friends think her patches are amazing as well. They told her they go really well with her ninja hood.
Lastly my daughter made her first report on Whoopsie Vision News. She made it this morning because her mother got up to go to work at 5am and - as I was already up - they both got up. They were off the wall demanding that I dance with them. So instead I lay under a blanket and let them jump on me. Always works. We all look like we've been dragged through a hedge backwards being as it's so early but that makes it more charming. Anyhoo - my daughter wants to be like Francine on The New Electric Company and make news reports about absurd situations. On the upside that's a good show that is made funnier by constant appearances from the guys from The Daily Show. It's a bit "stage school" but that actually makes it oddly appealing in the format it's in. On the down-side Francine is the cunning, mean character on The Electric Company. And guiltily I had a weird dream a few weeks back in which she showed up at my house trying to sell her services as a "personal pony". Which is based on a song sung by Davy Jones that my daughter liked 2 years ago about penguins. Which makes it evil. This pony request wasn't rude or anything but I still felt weird about it. I woke up before anything occurred but it the dream had that annoying feeling that your private inner mind has been invaded by someone who then defiles it. Still - here's Whoopsie Vision News with a report titled Whoopsie Whipsie Lemon Squipsy.