We were playing a question and answer game. It goes like this: I point at a body part and ask, "What is this?" and she will respond with the correct name about 83.6% of the time. The other times she either runs away to begin a new game or she says, "Nooooo I don' wanna pay dis. Bad mommy, bad!"
So, knowing the possible consequences of playing the game could leave me feeling a little "less than," I asked her, "What is this?" while pointing to my eye. She cocked her head to the side contemplatively and said, "It's eyes." Then she stuck her warm sticky finger into my eyeball. And, before I could see well enough to deflect further injury, she began pulling my eyelashes giddily.
The game continued in this fashion. I said, "What is this?" and pointed at my hair. She patted me on the head and said, "It's har." Sometimes the way in which she answers my questions make me feel like I should be the kid and she should be the grown up.
I feel closest with my children when I am engaged with them one-on-one, even if it is interrupting a dramatic love sequence on Downton Abbey. We were having our own dramatic love sequence right now and here, though the drama came from not knowing which body part was going to get pulled, poked, or gouged.
This time I asked, "What's this?" and pointed to my nose. She eagerly replied, "It's a nose" and stuck her finger alarmingly far up my nose and giggled hysterically.
After her laughing subsided, I asked, "What is this?" and opened up my mouth wide. For even more entertainment value I said, "Ahhhhhhhh" with my mouth open like I was at the doctor's office. Maeve immediately recoiled from my open mouth as if something I had done offended her. And this is what she said:
Apparently my breath was that bad.
Then she ran off to find another game that didn't stink.
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