My nose is growing

So following up my last post about the success of making up stories that involve Princesses and Fairies to make mothering easier, let me share a couple more ridiculous fabrications that I told my daughter to avoid Taylor drama.

This past weekend we were reading her Bambi book before bed, and after I finished the story I gave Taylor a big smooch and hug and attempted to crawl out of her bed when she stopped me and said, Mom, where’s Bambi’s Mom go? And I held my breath for a second and then answered, I think she went on vacation. And she asked back, Why she go on vacation? And then I said, Well, because she really likes the beach. And then Taylor smiled and said, I like the beach too, Mom. And then I hugged her super tight, kissed her cheeks until they were slobbery and let her go to bed picturing a mama deer laying on a beach chair drinking a margarita and planning an iChat with Bambi, Faline and their two fawns.

And the other big fib I recently told the Princess happened a few weeks ago when I woke up and found Nemo the third floating belly up. And instead of flushing him, hiding the bowl and telling Chris to pick up another dark-red betta fish during his lunch break, I disposed of the fish carcass and put empty bowl back on the table, raised my voice a few octaves and squealed, TAYLOR! Oh my goodness! Nemo’s not in his bowl! I think his mom and dad came and rescued him to the ocean last night! And she came running over to the table and peered into the empty bowl and said, His mom and dad take him to the ocean? But how they get there, Mom? Fish can’t walk. And I blubbered at this excellent observation for a moment and then said, Well, they all went to the ocean in that big bird’s mouth. You know, like in the movie? Hey, you wanna watch the Nemo movie? And she thought about this for a moment and then said, OH! Like the movie! I wanna watch the Nemo movie! Thank you, Pixar.

So. Call me a Liar. But why would I want to dive into the death-talk with a three year old? Especially one so perceptive that she understood that it was impossible for Mr and Mrs Nemo to walk through the front door and rescue their kid from our kitchen table. She’s a smart one, that Taylor. And once movie-candy-toy distractions stop working, I’m going to have to step up my mothering skills. Or my story telling skills. Most likely both.