Nan...7.0

I have been extremely negligent regarding this catalog of Nancy Ann Boone cuteness. 
What can I say? Life gets crazy.
As Nan approaches her 8th birthday next week, I wanted to commemorate two awesome Nan-isms from year 7. 
1. Balb. 
Nan's stepfather is bald.  To Nan, however, he is "balb".  Not sure why she thinks there is a "b" at the end, but it is super cute.
She and Georgia also think that every man who is "balb" looks just like Don.  Could be Howie Mandell.  Could be Gru (sp?) from "Despicable Me".  Could be a 98 year-old man in the lobby of their grandparents' assisted living home.  Could be a 350 pound man at Chick-fil-A.  If he's "balb," he looks "like Don," according to these two.
2. Butt teeth
7 was the year when the adorable gap in her mouth where her front baby teeth used to be was filled with two permanent chompers.  Apparently, she also doesn't hear the complete pronunciation of the terms commonly used to describe prodigiously large front teeth.  She thinks they are called "butt teeth."  I enjoy it so much when she says this phrase; I can't imagine correcting the error.  It's just too amusing to fix...she'll eventually figure it out.

But how did 8 arrive so quickly? 
Chubby cheeks and pot belly are long gone.  They've been replaced with earrings, freckles, and long legs. 
Sigh.

Two new things to be sure I don't forget...

Nan's current favorite word (and response to every prompt, question, remark, or concern): NEVER!!!!!!

She recently dealt with her first nasty stomach virus. In the midst of one very messy episode, so proclaimed: "I throwed up again, Mommy." And I KNEW in an instant that my child has lead a healthy and fortunate existence thus far. You see, she didn't throw up at all. She had diarrhea. She's never had either one, so she assumed that explosive diarrhea WAS throwing up.

Ole'

My child hearts Mexican food. This love has opened the door for several funny Nan-isms.
1. It is not Mexican food...it is Mek-skuh-gun food.
2. No matter how many times I try to correct her, a burrito is not a burrito. It is a buh-hee-ho.
3. She sure does love some chee dip. Not cheese dip, y'all...chee dip. Even though she knows exactly how to say the word "cheese," she has firmly held to the original toddler-Nan pronunciation. And she can take down an entire bowl full of chee dip in one sitting (although at least a third of it ends up on the table, on her shirt, or in her hair).

Are you sure you're just four?

Four new catch-phrases that have been put into regular rotation by Miss Nancy Ann Boone:
1. Nobody understands me (sometimes followed by: because I'm a kid).
2. Whatever.
3. Fine.
4. Fine...whatever.
I don't recall utilizing these little verbal gems until I was at least 13 or 14.
What is she going to start saying when she's 13 or 14? I shudder to think...
At least it's funny when she says these now (although I would never let her know that...trying NOT to encourage petulance at this point).

Cars have feelings too...

Nan decided that our cars needed names. Apparently they've been living a half-life---one without the benefit of given names. So here are Nan's choices for our cars:
Mine= Christy Star-toes
Shannon's= Kyle Tyler (after her two boyfriends at school...Daddy wasn't thrilled with this explanation)

Sister

I want to recall something Nan mentioned earlier this week. She talks about 'Baby Will' all the time...about missing him, and how he is her brother, and how she loves him. She talks about him just as much now as when he was with us. And Sunday she told me that she has dreams about him all the time. In her dreams he is big like her and he goes to the playground with her and they have fun and talk and play (and sometimes I forget to pick them up from the playground...that part doesn't sound so great to me). And I wish I could dream those dreams with her.

Cause I'm a Rockstar...

Nan was given a guitar (a real one...albeit child-sized) by her Uncle Roy this week. This new development has helped her reach the conclusion that she wants to be a rock star when she grows up. Before she received the guitar, it was a toss up between ballerina and rock star.
But after much consideration, she has decided that Nancy Ann Boone is not an appropriate moniker for a rock star. So it was announced to me, with much fanfare, that she has chosen a more fitting name for her future endeavors:
Nan: "Just call me Susan Petshop. Cause I'm a rock star."