My Bets loves to wear makeup and fuss over her appearance. A lot. She is very consumed with being pretty. I certainly don't fuss over how she looks unless it is picture day. :)
Recently I asked Betsey, "How much do you think I love you?"
She said, "Six."
I said, "That's a big number, yes. How much do I love you when you are sweet?"
"Six."
"Yep. What about when you hit your sister."
She just shook her head, no. (Enter mommy broken heart because I love her ALL THE TIME!)
"Betsey, I love you all the way even when you hit your sister. I love you six even when you make a bad choice. How much do I love you when you call someone a brat?"
"Six."
"That's right. Six. How about when get me a drink of water?"
"Six."
"Yep. What about when you are happy?"
"Six."
"When you have knots in your hair?"
"Six."
"What about if you scream and wake up Leo?"
"Six."
Now we have had versions of this conversation dozens of times and she uses different numbers, like seventeen or fifteen or five. Whatever number she chooses I go with it. She loves it, and I mean it.
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