Lucy...and all her many phrases

Lucy is at a really cute stage right now. Well, at least sometimes she's cute. Sometimes she's not. But this is all about her cuteness and if I ever blog again, maybe I'll talk about her non-cuteness. (And for those who think she is always cute, call me sometime so you can listen to her scream in the background.)

One night we came home from Walmart and we were bring in the groceries. Brad had put something in the fridge and reminded me that we needed to get the chicken put up before it went bad. I wasn't really paying any attention to Lucy, but she had opened up the fridge and then asked me, "Mommy, where is the chicken?" Because I wasn't paying attention I just casually muttered, "Huh?" and walked out the door to bring in more bags from the car. When I came back in, Lucy was just shutting the fridge and asked again about the chicken. I was paying a little more attention this time and said something like, "Huh? The chicken? It's in the fridge." and I walked back out the door. As I came back in I saw Lucy standing in the kitchen with the refrigerator door open and I told her to shut the door. She did, which is amazing, and asked, "Mommy, where is the chicken? I looked in the frigerator and it's not in there." "Yes it is, Lucy." and I walked out the door again. As I walk back in she is looking back in the fridge, again, really looking this time and says, "Mommy, I can't find the chicken." As she throws her hands down at her sides and sticks out her lower lip to pout. That's when it hits me, she is looking for a chicken in the fridge. Not the chicken, but A chicken. It took a little while to explain that there wasn't a clucking chicken in the fridge.

Another fun thing Lucy talks about right now is where things "live" at. She asked where to put her jacket one day and I told her to hang it up on the coat rack by the door. She asked, "You mean where my sweater lives?" Which also tells you we don't do a lot of cleaning because sweaters aren't supposed to "live" on coat racks, but in closets. She asked for a spoon one day. I told her to go and get one out. She asked where they were. I said, "Lucy, you know where they are, just go and get one." She said, "Oh, is it where the forks live?"

The other day she said she needed her hands wiped because she was all done with her toaster noodle. (AKA: toaster strudel)

She's just too cute. Sometimes.