Strawberry Shortcake Tea

For those of you who aren't aware, I am by trade a babysitter. As anyone who has even encountered a child knows, the mind of a child is quite lively, and sometimes difficult to keep up with. I experience this regularly every other Thursday afternoon, when I have the great fortune to hang out with Indigo (3) and Raina (1). Now, my girls do not watch television, so they are especially expert at entertaining themselves, and while they're at it, me. Since child anecdotes are always a kick, here are some recent favorites.
One of Indigo's favorite activities is a large, barn-shaped puzzle with various animals pictured on it. Now Indigo is incredibly eloquent, and as we were constructing the puzzle, we were discussing each piece in order to help her figure out its proper position. When we got to the cow (or 'tow', since Indigo can't say her hard c's), she took one piece that had the rear end (including hooves and udders) and attempted to fit it in. "What part of the cow is that?" I prompted. "That goes in the back," she replied. "Those are his feetsies (pointing to the hooves), and those are his milk-thingies (being the udders)." Oh, really? I'm not sure which was more amusing: her particular choice of words, or that she said HIS milk-thingies.
The girls' mother spent a lot of time in Ireland, and absorbed (to my excitement) the custom of taking tea frequently. Needless to say, she's brought up her babies to be teatotalers, and so we often 'have tea' in they're little play kitchen/dining area. Indigo is already a superb hostess; she is constantly presenting me with a fresh cup. Raina and I drink tea together while our hostess bustles about. On my last visit, as I was thanking Indigo for her gracious service in giving me tea, she said, "Yes. It's Strawberry Cake Tea. It's Strawberry Shortcake Tea." Fancy-schmanzy!
Part of our more recent fun and games includes dancing. It's not uncommon for music, mainly of the nursery rhyme nonsense genre, to be playing, and since everyone except myself is under four years of age, ballet is the dance of choice. So we dance ballet around the house to the Wiggles and Mickey Mouse music. I never would have thought, but when in Rome...a three year old's Rome, at least...
Their father came home one time while I was there in order to fix his car up for a trip. Since dad is the most interesting business around, our activities upon his arrival consisted of watching him through the glass door (and poking our heads out to ask questions, mainly 'what are you doing?'). We took brief breaks to decorate the doorknobs with pony-tail holders, prettifying the house for Indigo's birthday the next day, but other than that, dad was the main attraction. When he disappeared shortly into the garage for supplies (after telling us he was going to do so), Indigo turned to me and asked, "Where did papa go?" Me:"To the garage, remember?" I:"Oh, yes, because that's where the grown-ups go." I guess they do.