* (By the way, I never quite know if my question mark should go inside those quotation marks or outside since it's not a direct "quote".)*
There is a cow on there, her name is Clarabelle. Also, Grant LOVES Mickey Mouse Clubhouse and our family is familiar with its characters. --and this is important for you to understand before you embark on this story-journey with me.
Before I tell my story, I will go back a few weeks... After I put away all of the Christmas gear--on December 26th, oh yes, I am a humbug, I pared down some of our picture frames and things in our living room. One picture that I moved was an 8x10 of Jeff and me on our wedding day.
Grant noticed it right away on our side table and pointed at me, saying, "Mom, your a care-a-bell" over and over again. Then he said I didn't have wings. I kept prodding him..."What is a Carabell? Do you mean an angel?"
I believe that it is never too early to win your children over with the power of suggestion... "No, not an angel, a Care-a-bell!" said more forcefully. Ok, got it. Not an angel.
The conversation was dropped for the time being since none of us could crack his code, but 3 or 4 more times over the course of a couple of weeks, Grant would point at me in the picture and call me a "care-a-bell." I suppose he grew weary of me continually asking him to explain and suggesting that I appear to be part of the heavenly host, but that is what mothers do...strive to understand our children and suggest that we are angelic beings, of course!
He kept saying something about me not having wings, but I just didn't get it.
Fast forward to last week, I was getting myself ready for bed. I was lookin' good with my hair back in a headband and a clip, dressed in my bedtime finest-a too-small (now) ripped t-shirt and jammie pants. Grant came in, looked at me, and again said, "Mom, you're a care-a-bell but you got no wings!" With great trepidation, I asked, "Grant, do you mean Clarabelle, the cow on Mickey Mouse clubhouse?" It had been in the back of my mind for some time that I looked like a cow, but I definitely don't look like a cow in my wedding picture...I was baffled.
Whew. I mean, really, I am 30 weeks pregnant, and there are some serious similarities between Clarabelle and me at this point.
Then Connor joins our conversation. We are both trying to figure out what the heck a "care-a-bell" is when it dawns on me...Wings. Tiara..."Do you mean 'Tinkerbell'?" "YES!" Hallelujiah, message decoded.
"Oh, honey, that is really nice of you to say Mommy looks like Tinkerbell!"
But leave it to your eldest child, your firstborn, the light of your life to bring you back to reality.
"No, Mom, Grant doesn't mean 'Tinkerbell,' cause you don't look like that little 'Tinkerbell.' You look more like the little fat man on Peter Pan!"
At which point I had to remind myself that kids are nothing, if not honest..