Corrie is my five year old. She brings so much zest and enthusiasm to our lives.
She loves passionately. For example, when we drop Emmett off at work, she never fails to roll down her window and shout - loudly - "I love you, Daddy! I'll miss you, Daddy!" regardless of whether the parking lot is empty or full of college students on their way to class. Emmett often comments that he plans to yell out the window at her when he drops her off for school in the 8th grade. He's terrible.
The other day at church, a lady I didn't know came up to me and said that Corrie was adorable and reminded her of Pippi Longstocking. That kind of thing started happening regularly once Corrie started picking out her own outfits. She has a unique sense of style.
She has a vivid imagination and loves to lie on her floor at night, telling stories. It can be a little frustrating to play dolls with her, because she is the director and wants the story to be told just her way.
Corrie also has a great capacity for emotion - the highest of highs, the lowest of lows. She can bounce between delight and despair with nary a breath between.
Tonight after dinner, she collapsed on the couch in tears, wailing.
"You are ruining my life!" she said. Repeatedly.
Would you like to know what dreadful thing happened?
Dinnertime. Corrie eats one chicken nugget and one small helping of mac-n-cheese. "I can't eat any more ... my tummy hurts," she said. "OK," said her mom, "but you can't have any candy or treats later if you can't eat your dinner. If your tummy hurts, you might be sick."
I suggest we go for a walk. "Noooooo!" So we all head upstairs for a dance party. Afterwards, I send Evan out to ride his bike, and Corrie asks me for an ice pop. I said no (per our conversation after dinner). Cue her complete and utter devastation.
She sobbed for a few minutes, then complained, "You are just not listening to me!" I paused, because I was irritated at all the drama ... so I quietly sat next to her on the couch.
"You don't understand! I didn't mean to say that at dinner! I wasn't speaking English. I don't even know English! I was speaking in butterfly language. 'My tummy hurts' means 'I'm done with my dinner."
I did not even know what to say. My whole self wanted to laugh. I had to look away.
She continued, "And I was still speaking in butterfly language after dinner! 'Ice pop' means 'fruit!' I wanted to eat fruit!"
She climbed onto my lap and cried for a few more minutes. I held her tight and hoped she wouldn't notice that I was shaking with laughter.
"I would be glad to get you some fruit, Corrie." We filled a bowl with blueberries and strawberries and went outside.
Butterfly language! What on earth?