My child cannot keep a secret.
Any time she's in on making or getting a gift for me for any occasion, she ends up spilling. She can't help herself. She's not a great self-editor.
Yesterday we stopped in the grocery store and picked out some cards for the grandmas for Mother's Day. I immediately saw the one Ainsley should give my mom; it featured butterflies, which are Ainsley's favorite things to chase at my mom's house.
"Ooh, Ainsley, here's a pretty one with butterflies on it. I think you should pick this one for Mamaw".
"But Mommy!" she said, hands on hips. "I already made YOU something with butterflies on it for Mother's Day! We did it at school today in art class."
"Oh, that's nice. But were you supposed to tell me that?"
She turned red. "No," she mumbled. "The teacher said it was supposed to be a surprise."
So, of course, I will act surprised when I see her little craft with the butterflies on it.
Later last night, Jason came out into the living room chuckling.
"Ainsley whispered in my ear tonight what she wants to get you for Mother's Day."
"Let me guess. Something with butterflies on it."
"No, actually, she said she wanted to get you a Webkin. Or a huge bag of candy. I don't think she gets that she's supposed to get you something you would like, not something she would like."
Who's to say I wouldn't like a Webkin or a huge bag of candy (or both?) I love stuffed animals as much as the next freakishly childish 34-year-old (until Ainsley was born, I occasionally slept with a baby Simba stuffed animal Jason bought me in college; what can I say, it gives me a huge case of the cutesies.)
Needless to say, I am waiting with baited breath to see what Ainsley ends up giving me Sunday morning. I know there will be something about butterflies, and the rest is just up for grabs.