Conversation between Girl and me, riding in the car, listening to the radio:

Me: That sounds like Justin Bieber.

Girl: That’s because it IS Justin Bieber.

Me: Wait, did he just say, “You smell, I smell?”

Girl: No, why would he say that? He said, “You smile, I smile.”

Me: Sounds like “you smell, I smell” to me.

Girl: Mom, you have a very bad sense of hearing.

Me: There he goes again. Hear it? You smell, I smell.

Girl: Do you have two ears?

Me: Of course I do.

Girl: I think you only have one. Because one ear hears the first part of the word, and the other hears the last part of the word. I think you only have one ear.

Me: I have two ears.

Girl: Then maybe the eardrum on one of them isn’t working.

Me: Everything’s working but it still sounds like “you smell, I smell” to me.

Girl: Can you hear the “ds” when I say “words?”

Me: Yes.

Girl: Good.

First Grade School Supply List:

- 1 package red checking pencils
- 2 pkgs manila paper
- 2 marble cover composition books, Norcom, wide-ruled, 100 sheets/200 pages
- 3 writing tablets (dashed mid-line)
- 1 one-inch 3-ring binder with cover sleeve

Questions for Lamar Consolidated Independent School District:

- Is this a school supply list or a scavenger hunt?
- Why does Wal-Mart have your supply list but virtually none of your supplies?
- Can I get a permission slip from you for my boss saying that I need to be excused from work so I can get all this bought by Aug. 23?

Here’s what’s not on my list this year: Girl’s backpack and lunch kit. Nana took her and her 5-year-old cousin shopping for these items. Nana suggested Tinkerbell or Hello Kitty.

Girl picked a matching set covered with fire-breathing dragons, which she described to me on the phone.

“They’re 3D!” she said. “They were the only ones that were 3D!”

“What does that mean?” I asked.

“You know,” she said louder, as if I were a foreign tourist, “THREE DEE!!”

Her little girl cousin picked a Spider Man backpack and space alien lunch kit.

“I’m shocked. I don’t know what happened to these little girls,” Nana said.

“Brothers,” I said.

Secretly grateful for night tummy, a strange condition that seems to afflict Girl only at bedtime. It’s come on suddenly for the past two nights, happening right after she brushes her teeth.

“My tummy hurts,” she tells me. Sometimes she is more descriptive: “My tummy feels like it’s being pulled in two directions.”

Apparently the cure for night tummy is for me to lie down with Girl in her bed until she falls asleep. I used to do this on a regular basis until about six months ago, when she abruptly decided she didn’t need me or my bedtime stories to fall asleep anymore. Just a kiss and a prayer, thank you very much. She wanted to be alone. So the Adventures of Emily Poochydoochydachydoo, my rambling bedtime saga, came to a screeching halt way before I was ready for it to end. But you can’t beg a six-year-old to be more needy. You have to respect their small declarations of independence.

I think night tummy is really about saving face. For a girl like Girl, it’s easier to say “my tummy hurts” than “I still need you, Mommy.”

I’ve liked the last two nights, lying besider her in her small bed, staring at all the toys in her room as her breath grows steady and even. Happy that my baby can still sometimes be my baby.

Exhibit A: Wearing a construction paper birthday crown, Girl asks to sit in the big chair at the head of the table at supper.

“You mean in Dad’s chair?” I ask.

“Yes. It is my birthday, you know,” she says.

I think about it for a split second, then realize what that chair represents to a 6-year-old. Raw power.

“Nope,” I say. “That’s not the way we roll. Go sit in your own chair, please.”

Exhibit B: The unthinkable has happened. Girl was on blue, a less than perfect conduct grade. I heard about this second hand — she’s not talking about it — but allegedly, the teacher did not pass out some papers that Girl insisted needed to be passed out. The teacher must have reminded Girl that she was, in fact, not in charge of the classroom. To which Girl burst into tears and earned herself a blue grade for the day.

Exhibit C: A flyer comes home in Girl’s backpack advertising classes for cheerleading and karate. She informs Bob that she wants to take karate because she’s already done cheerleading. HI-YAH!

Where did this child come from?? Her light brown hair is the result of my dark brown and Bob’s formerly reddish-brown hair. Her eyes are a blend of my chocolate brown and Bob’s sky blue. But her personality — Good Lord! Where did this fierceness come from? It’s like the genes of all the angry Scotsmen and the genes of all the crazy Sicilians have been crammed into one small package. No wonder she explodes at the slightest provocation.

Of course, it could be more than genetics. She’s an Aquarius. And if you Google Aquarius, here’s what you find: “Of all the signs in the zodiac, Aquarians have perhaps the biggest ego of all. Their interest in intellectual pursuits and their unique viewpoints on life makes Aquarians think that they are the most special people on Earth. Coupled with their creativity, Aquarians can sometimes think that they are God’s gift to the universe.”

True. So true. She’s also God’s gift to me.