A 20-Month-Old's Jokes

My little baby daughter turns 20 months old tomorrow.  Out of the teen months and into the "almost 2" stage. 
We had her 18 month checkup today.  (Yes, we got a little behind; it's how life is these days.)  She is a whopping 22 lbs and 33-1/2" long.  Tall and skinny, and pure muscle.  Unfortunately she had to have 2 shots, and she did so well.  Only a minute of crying, and it all stopped when I kissed her leg where the band-aids were.  She's taking a good little nap and hopefully sleeping off the grumpies.

Lizzie is a chatterbox.  Really.  I spent some time today writing down every word that I could remember that she uses regularly, and they filled a page front and back!  That's just from off the top of my head (while I watched a bit of PBS Kids with her). 


Even better than her talking is her sense of humor.  She tells jokes.  They are usually like rhetorical questions, and the answer is always, "Noooooo....." with a smirk.

The first time we noticed her creative sense of humor was when we were eating out and she was 16 months old.  Sam and I had ordered two different things and they both looked delicious.  I was getting Lizzie situated with her food, so I had hardly gotten a chance to taste my own food when Sam asked if I had tried his yet.
I said, "No, but I really want a bite."  At that moment Lizzie grabbed my hand, took a gentle bite on my finger, and laughed.
Sam and I looked at each other and couldn't believe what she had just done.  She told her first joke.

More recently, Lizzie has started to tell jokes with words.  Most often she likes to go with the obvious.

About a month ago I put her hair in a ponytail.  Her hair is still so short that a ponytail is kind of a pathetic attempt, but it usually keeps the hair free of boogers, yogurt, and rice, and she doesn't usually pull it out.
She was so fascinated by having a ponytail like mine, and kept saying, "Mama, hair," while trying to grab my ponytail.  And then touching her hair and saying, "Zizzie, hair."  Then a few minutes later, the conversation would repeat.  Eventually she started saying, "Daddy, hair," with a bit of a sparkle in her eyes.  She'd wait for a response from me, then say, "Nooooooo," and laugh.

Last week she saw me putting on makeup, which she calls "mape-mup," and she asked for some on her cheeks.  Really, she did.  She pointed to her cheeks and said, "mape-mup, tzseek." So, being completely amused, I brushed her cheeks with my empty powder brush, and she happily watched me finish my routine.  Then the following conversation ensued:
"Mama, mape-mup."
"Yes, Mama is wearing makeup."
"Zizzie, mape-mup."
"Yes, Lizzie has makeup, too."
Lizzie smiles.  "Yaydee, mape-mup."  (Lady is our dog).
"Lady wears makeup?"
"Nooooooo," with a knowing smirk.
No, silly girl.  Lady doesn't wear makeup.

It just gets more entertaining here every day.