Blurt Alert

You'll be introduced to my daughter E's best friend J (a boy) soon enough anyway, so it might as well be via this story. As we walk in the door from work/school yesterday, the first thing E says to me is, "Mommy! Guess what J and I are going to do tomorrow?" Because I can generally assume any discussion centering around E and J will involve marriage, dinosaurs, spitting, or a combination of all of those (eerily similar to my own marriage), I continue with dinner prep and say, "what?"

With a huge smile on her face, she announces, "weeeee are going to blurt!"

Wait. "You're what?" Now that E is nearing the ripe old age of 6, I've learned over the years to try to rein in and temper my (over) reactions to her announcements until I get the entire story; she does come from a long line of histrionic dramatistas, so I don't fault her entirely -- I do deal with her father DAILY. Le sigh.

So now I've stopped figuring out what leftovers are in my fridge that I can heat up that she'll pitch the smallest fit over having to eat for dinner, and I've focused my full attention on my child, who is now standing in the middle of the living room behind a step stool that looks like a tiny pulpit. Also, can someone tell me why the F there's a step stool in the middle of my living room? Am I the only one? I'm 100% certain it will still be there next year, which will be convenient for putting the Christmas tree back up.

So my tiny orator leans forward, rests her elbows on the step stool, narrows her eyes to look up through her long lashes at me and says, "we're going to BLURT" -- then widens her eyes, as if ready to gauge my shocked reaction.

"Sweetie, I'm not sure exactly what word you're saying. Say just that 'blurt' word again." So she does the lean-forward-coquettish-talking-through-eyelashes look at me again (where the crap did she LEARN THAT?! This child is only 5 years old-uh!) and mumbles: "mmblr-URT! Well, I don't know if I have the first part of the word right, but the last part is -URT."

"What does that mean?"

"Well, you know how when you go up to someone and you say, 'you are sooo cute, and I want to marrrrry youuuuuu'? It's like that."

"Oh, okay, then you mean 'FLIRT,' with an 'f' at the beginning." As in: you're never effing leaving the house again until you're 43 years old, and only then to alert the proper authorities as to my demise.