As Veronica is three years old, she is prone to the (not-so-)occasional meltdown. And usually, said meltdown will be caused by the most trivial of matters, such as her desire to see "The Wiggles" when it is not on TV and we do not have it on DVD or video. Or, her desire to wear a certain shirt or pair of jammies that are in the dirty laundry. Or her inability to open the screen door by herself. You get the idea.

Not to trivialize her concerns, but in trying to keep her a bit grounded, Jason has taken to telling her "It's no big whoop." And wouldn't you know it...

Jason is romping around with her and gets kicked in the face by accident. "It OK Daddy," she tells him, "it no big whoop." Janus whines for more food. "It OK Janus, you got food, it no big whoop." She visits cousin Zane and he starts crying over something. "It OK Zane, it no big whoop."

(sigh)

Although I do admit, you are comforted when you're laughing at how cute that sounds when she says it.

Veronica loves to sing. She has a very limited repertoire, but I love her wording on the songs she does know. Especially since she cannot start a word with the letter “S” yet.

And now, “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star” as sung by Veronica:

Tween-kull tween-kull widdle tar
How I wun-ner what you are
Buppabove de whorl so high
Wike a die-mun in de kie
Tween-full tween-kull widdle tar
How I wun-ner what you are.

Most likely followed by “Baa Baa Black Sheep”, also the Veronica version:

Baa baa bwack weep
Have you enny woo?
Yes her, yes her,
Fwee bag four
One for de mat-ter
One for de day
One for de widdle boy
Who wive down de wane.

Then there's also the alphabet song, with some creative placement of various letters. No matter which one it is, though, I could listen to her sing for hours. It's so cute.

Veronica and I were playing last night with her toys, and the subject of her upcoming visit to her grandparents came up in conversation. She confirmed that Janus the cat wasn't going.

Then she said, "Pita died."

"Yes," I said, "Pita died. I used to take her to your grandma and grandpa's house, though. She was allowed to go."

Veronica got excited. "Pita at Grandma and Grandpa house!" she said.

"No, honey, she's not. She died."

Veronica looked a little confused. "Pita in Grandma and Grandpa bedroom," she stated firmly.

"No, sweetie, she died. Do you know what 'die' means, Veronica?"

She looked down at her toys and fell silent.

"It means she's gone and she can't come back, she's never coming back," I explained.

Veronica sat there silently for a few moments, and then asked, "Mommy? I die too?"

I almost started crying immediately at the thought. I wanted to say no, you live forever. You HAVE TO. But I didn't want to lie to her.

"Yes, Veronica," I said. "You die too. But not for a very very VERY long time, OK?"

"I die and see Pita," she said.

"Yes but not for a very, very, very, VERY long time, sweetie." And I had to change the subject.

No one ever told me that a conversation with your child would feel like a punch to the stomach, would make you want to just cry with the innocence and overwhelming scope of what you're discussing. She feels better now, but I just need a hug in the worst possible way after this exchange.

I'm in sort of a slump, but wanted to let everybody reading this know that Veronica is doing well, and is growing up a bit more every day.

And here, a picture fix of her wearing a rain hat belonging to my friend Sara's husband Jay. Too cute.