UPDATE: I wanted to get to the bottom of the headfreeze issue so tonight I asked Rachel what a headfreeze is.

She said, very seriously, “Do you mean a freeze head?”

I almost lost it.

Apparently a freezehead, aka headfreeze, is what happens when you eat frozen yogurt or something.

Then why does she get it when she sits in her car seat?

I’m so confused.

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“I know lot about kids, you know? Because I’m a kid.” Rachel announced this morning.

“You do, too.” she said. “Because you’re a kid. You’re your mommy’s kid. You’ll always be a kid, right?”

Maybe I’m a kid, but I think she knows more than I do. For instance, have YOU heard of a head freeze?

In the car this morning, she said, very seriously, “I have a head freeze. I get them all the time. Right in the back of my head. Everytime I sit in this seat I get one. A head freeze. Hannah gets them, too. I just know she does.”

I started thinking about that cup of coffee sitting at home that I hadn’t finished.

I can’t quite keep up. This is my life. A little off beat. A little bizarre.

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Hannah continues to talk away. I’m not sure how much of what she says can be understood by the outside world. Often I even have trouble knowing what she wants to tell us. Yesterday she kept pointing to a bowl of water in the backyard. “Dadaiee’s Wawa!” She must have said it about 10 times. “Stinky water?” I asked, knowing that wasn’t quite it (dinky wawa would have been the proper phrase).

Finally, I got it.

“Charlie’s water?”

She stopped fretting and looked at me with her big beautiful eyes-a look of gratitude, relief and wonderment that I had finally understood. The world stopped for a minute as we smiled at each other.

Most of the time, I’m too busy just staring at her and kissing up on her to care if I understand or not. She’s gorgeous, this toddler of mine. I could eat her up.

Sometimes I wish I really could stop the world for a time.

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When I was younger I was generally a little (translation: a lot) defensive. These days I usually don’t have time to indulge this part of me. My husband might tell you a different story.

A few weeks ago, my husband said, ‘Within a weekend, you’ve gone from mama to mommy.”

My defenses were up. What did he mean? I assumed he was talking about some existential transformation I’d gone through. What?!!

Instead he was commenting on Hannah’s speech. I’m “mommy” now, not “mama.” He was right.

I forgot. Men are simpler than we are. And that’s not always a bad thing.