Susan gets outrageously upset over predicate nominatives (adjectives?). If I say, “You sure are cute today” or “Thanks for cleaning up; you sure are helpful” or “Good job, you’re smart,” she screams, “I’m not cute/helpful/smart, I’m Susan!” Now that she can say “Susan,” I kind of miss “Caddies.” I know, I know, I need to start praising the process rather than the product; maybe that will help.
She’s also very literal-minded (even for a kid). I asked her once when she had a cold if she was hoarse, and she said, “Neigh.”
At meal-time, I’ve learned to ask her if she wants a spoon or fork. I guess I could always give her both, but I have a hard enough time keeping up with the dishes, and then there’s also the plastic(kid) v. metal(adult) choice, so that would mean four utensils. She often responds, “I don’t want a spoon or fork,” and then two minutes later she asks for one, as if it has to be her idea. So now I tell her to go to the drawer and get which one she wants (because which ever one I hand her, it’s always the wrong one).
So I don’t always listen carefully to what Susan says; I don’t think she does either. Last week she spent a couple of days asking for milk and then, after tasting it, saying she wanted water. I gave her water, but kept encouraging her to drink her milk, too.
Sally, at dinner, said, “That’s interesting, milk doesn’t taste very good after you eat these little baby tomatoes.” Fine, don’t drink the milk–finish your dinner and go to bed (this was when Dick had been gone a few days). Milk does taste funny after drinking orange juice or brushing your teeth…or is it that orange juice tastes funny after toothpaste?
That night, after finally getting the three monsters settled (they’re getting better about prayers and teeth-brushing; it helps that stories are now the last thing we do), I poured myself a mug of milk for hot chocolate. I took a big gulp before putting it in the microwave. EEEUUUUWWW, gross! The milk, dated a week in the future, was spoiled. Sorry kids. Don’t listen to mom.

