February 9, 2012

Imogen and I were sitting at the table, eating our breakfast.  In her casual, conversation starter voice, Imogen said:

Mummy, isn't it great that our noses are stuck to our faces?

August 29, 2011

Today Imogen and MamaJen had a conversation about making pancakes.  I wasn't there for the exchange, so I can't do a word-for-word accounting.  But I can tell you this:

Imogen informed MamaJen that to make pancakes, you must have bacon powder.  

Jen said, "Not bak-ING powder?"  

Oh no, silly MamaJen.  Imogen correctly her swiftly.  BACON powder.  Every pancake needs bacon powder.

And now you know.  Just think how many pancakes you've ruined by using the wrong ingredient.  To the kitchens with you!  Get it right!

August 18, 2011

Imogen helped us prepare for our housewarming party over the weekend by creating signage for our refuse bins...

Imogen:  Mummy, I'm drawing pictures of garbage on my sign for garbage.

Me:  Great idea, Imogen.

Imogen:  Yes, and on my sign for recycling I'm drawing empty bottles and broken bathtubs.

July 21, 2011

Me:  So how was the parade today, Imogen?

Imogen:  It was okay.  But the Autism Parade was better.

Me:  The Autism Parade?  What's that?

Imogen, with a sigh:  Mum.  It's the parade I was in with my bicycle.

Me:  Do you mean the Cycle for Autism?

Imogen:  No.  I know what that is.  And I won a prize there.  That was a race, not a parade.  I mean the Autism Parade where I rode my bike and Jen and Liam and Julius were with me and there were rainbows and people waved at me.

Me:  Oh, you mean the Pride Parade!

Imogen:  No, I mean the Autism Parade.

Me:  Why do you think that parade was called the Autism Parade?

Imogen:  Because it was about being special and about love.  And that's what autism is about, Mum.

I can't argue with logic like that.  The Autism Parade it is.  Full of autists and queers.  Some of us both.

July 15, 2011

Seven of us are eating dinner.  Imogen is keeping everyone amused with her longtime, ongoing narrative about how Jen is her biological mother and the mother she likes best.  We are all giggling lots at her stories.

Imogen:  Am I being silly?

Me: Yeah, maybe a little bit.

Imogen:  Silly like a clown?

Me:  Um, sure, maybe a little silly like a clown.

Imogen:  Or silly like a beetle lying on its back on the top of a mountain?

You know, that near-iconic image of silly that springs to mind at the mention of the word.  Uh huh.

June 3, 2011

Imogen, in her sweet, sing-songy voice: I have my own penis now; I don't need my brother's anymore!

June 2, 2011

Imogen:  Mummy, for dessert I'm going to ride my bicycle.  But don't worry, I won't eat it.

Me:  Um, huh?

Imogen:  Mummy, sometimes dessert can be riding your bike or having a bubble bath.  It doesn't always have to be about eating sugary things.  For you, Mummy, it can be about drinking wine.