Move over, Sarah Silverman. Step aside, Whoopi Goldberg. Not so fast, Ellen DeGeneres. Make room for … Maevy Gravy. Maybe.
This was a conversation in our house a few days ago:
Miss M: Mommmmay!
Yours Truly: Yes, Maeve?
Miss M: Knock! Knock!
Yours Truly, after realizing my child is actually about to attempt a joke: Who’s There?
Miss M: MEEEE!!! (She smiles, bursts into giggles and bounds off, totally delighted with herself.)
* * *
Keeping with her new role as arbiter of humor, yesterday she and I were in Home Depot looking for paint for her new Big Girl Bedroom furniture (some funky vintage furniture we’ve had stored in our garage since before we ever were parents) and we were making our way down a main aisle along the plumbing department.
I was in the daze I tend to be in while shopping that store when suddenly, from her spot in the orange wagon, she jumped to life, pointed at a display we passed and yelled: “Mommmay! A Potteeeeee!”
She scared the you-know-what out of me and when I looked back to see where she was pointing, a man pushing his cart behind us also was laughing at her shock and, well, awe. I suppose when much of your life has become potty-centered, and you’ve only seen them in the context of bathrooms, it is a bit strange to see one perched high on a shelf in a store.
I laughed with the man as the look of surprise on her face really was something.
Then she suddenly got very serious, scrunched up her face, her little nose all creased, curls dangling above her big, brown eyes, and she said — as sternly as a toddler can: “Mommmay! Why laughing, mommmay? That no funny!”
Well, okay then.