Tontacts

Bean's a master at imitation. And since imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, I suppose I should be grateful. Grateful or not, she cracks me up.

Lately, she's been watching me intently during my morning routine. Since my routine consists of little more than a rudimentary brush through my hair, a more thorough brush of my teeth and an occasional insertion of contacts, there's not much to study.

The other day, we were at "The Wal-Mart" as she calls it, getting a prescription for C-Rex. She spotted a contact case on the counter and practically fell out of the cart lunging for it.

"Mommy! I need some tontacts! PLEASE!? PLEEEEEASE?"

I needed a new case so I handed it to her. (Why it didn't occur to me that I would never be seeing said case in my possession, I don't know)

When we got home, she filled each side with water, looked at me seriously and said,

"I'm putting in my tontacts, Mommy. Please be quiet." Then she dips her finger in the water and runs it over her eyelids.

She did this fairly regularly for a good 30 minutes and continues to occasionally ever since. It makes me laugh every time.

Why do I have toys? Seriously.