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January 11, 2008 Frances Friday: Good Mother 
"These are all my babies," said Frances, arms full of stuffed toys. "This is Ella the Elephant, this is Baby Curious George, and this is Baby Duckie. They are my babies, and I am their Mummy." "And you are a very good Mummy, too, aren't you? You take good care of your babies," I say. "Yeah. I have three babies. That isn't very many." She puts them down on the couch. "It isn't? I think three babies is a lot of babies." "It doesn't look like a lot of babies," she said. "No. But when you were a little baby, one was plenty for me." "You mean when I was this big?" she says, holding her hands a few inches apart. "Something like that." "I was sooooo cuuuuuuuute," she says. She picks up her baby duckie and holds it against her shoulder, patting its fluffy back. "Shh shh," she says. "Shh shh. Oh sweetheart! Shh. It's ok, it's ok. I'm here now. Shhh. It's ok. I just went to the bathroom. I'm here now." She picks up baby Curious George and dumps him in my lap. "Here. You can be Curious George's Mummy." "Ok." I put the monkey toy on my shoulder, but it receives nowhere near the level of solicitousness and tender care that the baby duckie is getting from Frances, who is now walking it around the room, still patting its back and murmuring soothing nothings in its ear. At least this time I get to be the Mummy--last time I was the Daddy. But my relief is premature, it seems; Frances brings the baby duckie back to the couch and wiggles her in front of my face, saying in her squeaky toy-voice, "Are you my sister?" "I don't know. Am I your sister?" "Yeah!" "Oh. Does that mean Frances is my Mummy?" "No!" said baby duckie. "Awww, why not? Then I can lie down here and Frances can take care of me for a few hours." "No!" says Frances in her own voice. She clambers up on the couch beside me. "You are my Mummy." "You can't be my Mummy?" "No!" she says, upset now, wrapping her arms around my neck. "You can only ever be my Mummy." "OK," I say. "You know sweetie, I am always going to be your Mummy. And that's good, because I love being your Mummy. And you will always be my little girl." "No, Mummy. I'm four. I'm big now." "So you will always be my big girl?" "Yeah." Soon, upset forgotten, she is pushing her feet against the couch, which digs her shoulder into my throat and makes Mummy croak in mock-asphyxiation. Frances is laughing hard, and her babies are in a pile on the couch. They must be sleeping. Posted by Andrea at January 11, 2008 9:54 AM under Frances Friday EMAIL this entry (comments fields are below this section) Comments She's still soooooo cuuuuuuuute...but is she too big to hear that? I read these Frances stories and while 4 is fabulous, in a way, a part of me wants so much to know how she will be when she grows up. I don't always feel that way. I think it's because Frances is so cool. We have similar exchanges. Posted by: Julie Pippert at January 11, 2008 1:32 PM
:D <3 Posted by: LauraJ at January 11, 2008 1:43 PM
You know, I love watching them "parent" because it's such an awesome reflection of what they know, related to how they've been treated. Unlike you, I have to be the baby ALL the time, and she's my mama, and sometimes it's a little difficult being told that I can't tell her not to help herself to another cookie because I'm a baby and babies can't talk. Posted by: NotSoSage at January 11, 2008 3:07 PM
Kid Logic kills me. I love it. Posted by: Andrea
I think that her Mummy has done a very good job of modelling for the Ducky's Mummy. Posted by: Liz at January 11, 2008 10:36 PM
Wonderful! (Ellie's toy duckie apparently needed to nurse over here yesterday, which was hilarious. That's tough to do, with a beak and all!) Posted by: Sarahlynn at January 12, 2008 4:05 PM
Younger Daughter, who is staring 16 in the eye, still responds the same way when I say, "Who's my little one?" "ME!" is what she says. Posted by: yankee,transferred at January 14, 2008 3:50 PM
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Change is God (Octavia Butler, Parable Series) "Remember this: Nothing is written in the stars. Not these stars, nor any others. No one controls your destiny." Wicked Email Frances! frances AT athenadreaming DOT org You can email her mother too (that's me):
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