The Undying Love of a Daughter for her Father.

So my daughter is now three.  She can talk and she can put her own pants on, she knows how to use the toilet and she chooses not to.  It's a fantastic stage of life. Of all the skills she is mastering right now, the one she really enjoys most, the one she practices most and with the most revelry is, the eye roll.  I mean she's three.  Honestly, where does she get off.  She needs me to wipe her bum after she goes to the bathroom and she's rolling her eyes at me?!  And the thing is she really practices it. At least once a day I'll get and eye roll that didn't quite take the way she wanted so she'll stop, reset her eyes, and then with all the same over the top distain she'll start again.  I've began to tell her that when you roll your eyes at someone it means you love them more than any other thing on the earth.  Unfortunately, that only solicited yet another eye roll...which was deserved, granted.  I will give her credit for her timing, I mean she's three and yet she knows that an eye roll goes after Dad has said something super duper hilarious and she really wants to laugh but knows an eye roll will illicit a better reaction.  And she's right, I'm blogging about it right this second.

Please don't tell me that I can look forward to many more in the years to come, okay. I got it.  Girls roll their eyes at their dads.  It's clear. Listen, it's not the fact that her eyes spiral to the back of her head when I jump out screaming from behind the shower curtain. It's the fact that she is THREE. One. Two. Three. Where did she learn it?! It's certainly not my go to response when I deem something is beneath me. Quite the opposite, I like to look a thing right in the eye and tell them they are beneath me.  So it's clear. An eye roll is not clear.  It's muddy.  Maybe a fly flew by.  Maybe you are only having a stroke.  There are lots a reasons her face would do that after a well timed, in front of her friends, fart joke. I should have her checked for stokes.

All in all, she still hugs me more than she rolls her eyes at me.  She still laughs hard when she swings in her swing right into the back of my head.  This is really such a fun age.  She is able to tell you what she wants and she can explain to you why she's not going to do what you want.  And she's old enough to be told that if she doesn't listen to me and do every single thing that I ever say, then tusks will grow out of her nose and her feet will turn into hands and we will have to go to the glove store to get her a nice set of black gloves to walk to church in.

Which, I suppose, only gives her one appropriate response...but she's three.