It is usually impossible for me to convey the full extent of Twelve's wacky behavior at home, mostly because I can never remember enough of the crazy shit she says to record it properly. Tonight was no exception, but there was more than usual so I've actually managed to remember a few choice fragments:
"L and I made up silly names for each other with 'fart' in them. Want to hear them?"
"Want to know how I know? I have magical unicorns that fart butterflies and poop gold."
[after haphazardly applying lipstick on me] "Purse your lips like you're about to make out with a real hunk."
"What does "that's what she said" mean? I asked my teacher ... Okay, I didn't really ask my teacher."
[lying in bed, working up excess saliva] "I have rabies! Watch out, I'll give you my rabies and then I will be de-rabiesed."
I can't quite tell what's going on in her brain; it's clear that at least part of her motivation is the shock value, but I think she's mostly just cracking herself up. It's partially a performance, but she almost never does it when other people are around. When she gets going, it definitely snowballs until she can barely talk for the laughing. Of course, this quickly degenerates into you're-driving-mom-bonkers territory: Stop poking me or you're never watching Downton Abbey again! Threatening to take away the iPod Touch also does the trick. Who says there's no reason for children to have fancy gadgets?
Tonight, on the descent into Crazytime, Twelve proposed a new Mother-Daughter Bonding Time activity. On paper, Mother-Daughter Bonding Time is exactly what it sounds like. For example, I might say, "Want to come on a walk along the riverfront? It could be Mother-Daughter Bonding Time" and then we'd go for a walk. Lovely and sweet, yes. In practice, guess how often we go on walks? Yeah.
Most often, Mother-Daughter Bonding Time is shorthand for "Let's go shopping!" Don't get me wrong, this is fine with me. We combine this with Sewing Machine Hunting (for my "business" - let me know if you need a used sewing machine, and I'll hook you up, but it might be a bit of a drive) and have a grand time. We have a usual route through the secondhand stores in the nearby somewhat-larger town as well as the local shops. As we drive, Twelve talks to me without meaning to. Often I'll find a machine or two, and Twelve finds a pile of books and yet another super-cute garment that hangs in the closet while she wears the same blue hoodie every day.
Tonight's proposal was, "Let's have Mother-Daughter Bonding Time tomorrow. We can go to the mall, because there's a Claire's there and I need to get a present for the birthday party on Friday and there's a Bath & Body Works. I love you so much and we'll get to have Mother-Daughter Bonding Time and your hair is so pretty." Of course, she's dissolved into giggles about halfway through this nonsense, and they're very contagious giggles.
Well, I hate shopping malls. Can't stand them in general, and this one is particularly bad. Malls represent all that is cheap, tacky, greedy consumerism-driven, irresponsibly produced, and just plain messed up. Bah humbug.
Although ... I did have my shopping-in-malls stage, and now that you mention it I do remember a particularly nice Orange Ginger lotion from Bath & Body Works that I used to have in a pump bottle ... You love me so much? You want to have Mother-Daughter Bonding Time with me? You think my hair is pretty?
We'll probably go to the mall tomorrow. I promise to complain a lot, though, and point out the uneven hems on the clothes, and try not to buy anything but the lotion and maybe the bath gel.