We have this book about The Little Mermaid, where the palace gets messed up and her sisters blame it all on Ariel. But the culprit turns out to be a little whirlpool who is looking for her mother. I can’t remember the book’s name right now, though the good money is probably on something unexpected like “Ariel and the Little Whirlpool.”
Now you may not think this sounds like literary classics material, but it’s a mermaid book with no prince, no pretend wedding, no changes of clothes. So I think it’s a winner.
Me Too is reminding me of the little whirlpool these days. Or maybe the Tasmanian devil of Looney Tunes fame. She is just into everything! Making huge messes and tearing stuff up… Using her insufficient knowledge of The World to seemingly cause me all kinds of grief.
She stuck her pinkie in the fan the other day. Luckily, she was okay, but it scared her.
Of course she should know not to stick her finger in the fan, along with a whole slew of variations on this theme: no Barbie legs in the fan, no knitting needles in the fan, no Pocky chocolates in the fun.
According to Miss Five, though, the fans at Jusco are okay to touch (the expensive ones stop automatically,) so therefore the ones we have at home are also now okay to touch.
Later on she was trying to change the batteries in a toy, with no regard to size or direction. I couldn't convince her that it mattered. The batteries were much to small for the slots she was trying to insert them into. They kept falling out, so eventually she tired of playing handyman.
What is it they say about a little bit of knowledge?