Mia says…

I’ve been meaning to begin a “Mia says…” series for probably around a year, now. Mia has a pretty extensive vocabulary, which is something people have always noticed about her right off the bat when interacting with her for awhile, now. She’s almost 4 years old (at the end of April) and over the last year, her vocabulary has not only grown but so has her ability to express humor, wit, curiosity, sass, reason and original ideas. This series is my attempt at documenting this time of imagination, learning new concepts and developing her own, unique personality. She honestly makes me laugh every single day and I just don’t ever want to forget this simple and innocent age.

  • I’m going over bills at the dining room table. After some time of playing quietly in her room, Mia comes out and walks over to me. I look up and see that she’s wearing her Elsa dress and shoes. She casually says to me, “Yeeeeaaaah…..sorry about that.” I ask, “Um, sorry about what?” “Sorry for freezing you with my powers.” She turns around and walks back into her bedroom. I knew I was feeling unusually cold that morning.

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  • Mia asked Dad to lay on the ground on his tummy so that she could give him a back massage. He does. She lifts up his shirt to get started, sees scattered freckles and says, “Wow, Dad. You have a lot of sparkles here.”

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  • I made cake pops for the first time. At the end of the day, Mia sat happily on a chair to dig into her first pop. After her first bite, she smiles widely and says, “Mmmm, this is my whole life! This was the best idea ever.”

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  • We’re riding in the car and listening to one of Mia’s favorite singers, Michael Jackson. She begins to ask a question that I can’t fully make out. “Does it hurt to be b#@$?” I follow up with, “What? Does it hurt to be what?” She answers (this time more clearly), “Does it hurt to be black? You know, like Michael Jackson.”

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  • I wish I can remember what it was that Dominic did or didn’t do that made me bring it to his attention and sort of correct him. Probably had to do with cleaning. Mia could tell that I was frustrated and said to me in a very sympathetic manner, “Mom, don’t be mad at Daddy. He just doesn’t know any better.”

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