Poor little Sweet Pea is battling a cold. She has lost her precious and innocent little voice to one that makes her sound like a lounge singer holding a cigarette in one hand and a martini in the other. This morning as we were playing, she approached me with a notebook and a pencil. "Mom, can you draw Clifford umming?"
Me: What do you want me to draw?
Sweet Pea: Clifford umming.
Me: I am so sorry sweetie, but I don't understand what you're saying.
Sweet Pea: Mommy pleeeeeeease draw Clifford umming.
Me: O.K. I understand you want me to draw Clifford. (This would be Clifford the Big Red Dog).
After a few minutes of this conversation, Sweet Pea began to run around the kitchen.
Sweet Pea: Now do you understand what Clifford is doing? He's umming!
Me: Yes Sweet Pea. I understand that Clifford is running. I'll draw him for you.
I drew her a picture of Clifford running and she said, quite disgustedly, "you drew Emily Elizabeth."
I give up!