“I’ll call her Yzma”.
{gulp}
As soon as those words left her {innocent, adorable, 3 year old} little mouth, my involuntary eyebrow-lift and lip-curl occurred simultaneously.
I may have snorted a little too.
Not because “Yzma” is such a dreadful name or anything {however it will never not conjure up frightening images of a shriveled-up, overly-eye-lashed, evil little woman}, but because my allowing Cricket to watch “The Emperor’s New Groove” in a moment of weakness many months ago, has continued to bite me in the heinie. Over and over again.
Don’t get me wrong, my hubby and I love that movie. We do. We laugh our heads off and quote it frequently…”uuuuh, I’ve been turned into a cow, can I go home?”.
But it seems as though I am just now beginning to realize how differently I see movies I’ve always considered harmless, now that we have kids. Specifically, a 3 year old who has fallen in love with movies.
She found it. She asked. I shrugged, and said…”sure, babe, why not”.
And have been kicking myself ever since.
Since that first day, I think she’s watched it 367 thousand times. Okay, maybe not that many. But a lot. She loves it. It’s giving Veggietales a run for it’s money {forgive me, Lord}.
Yes, yes, I’m a stellar mom, I know this {argh}.
I find myself balking at the random phrases and “voices” coming from her little mouth lately.
Sure, it’s funny when she pipes up with our favorite “turned into a cow” line, which she always sweetly punctuates with a “please” despite there not being one….{insert proud mommy grin here}…or when she shrieked, “is that my voice? Is that m-y voice?!” in the middle of dinner.
But then It evolved into role playing. “I’m Yzma…you be Kronk” {a far cry from the usual role playing of “I’m Mary, you be Dofiss and this here frog is baby Jesus” we’re used to around here…and are quite comfortable with, thank you}. Swallowing my pride, I get creative…and suggest I rather play Pacha, the sweet-spirited peasant man. He’s a nice guy, right? No, she insists. Kronk {the brain-dead evil side-kick} appears to be my best fit. Thanks, love.
Then, over multigrain cheerios last week, completely out of left field she belts out, in perfect Yzma style…”a llama..?! A llama..?! He’s supposed to be dead!”.
I believe that’s when milk shot out my nose. But I can’t be certain. I’ve blocked it out.
I didn’t have {too serious} a problem with her movie obsession until yesterday when she turned around to me during our daily dance party, sporting an enormous grin and seemingly clueless as to the magnitude of the words emerging from her lips, put on her finest wicked-little-purple-woman-voice, and sneered: “and then…I’m going…to k-e-e-e-l you!”.
Read: kill.
{double gulp}
I realize she has no idea what she’s saying, but I do. {more kicking}. And I’m having images play through my mind of me being called into the principle’s office for a serious discussion about my daughter’s death-threats to her kindergarten classmates.
Not good.
Then today. Oh, heavens…today.
She acquired a new pet. And yes, her name is Yzma.
Meet Yzma, an American Dagger Moth {in caterpillar form, of course}, and the latest fix for her caterpillar craze.
She’s cute, isn’t she? All fluffy and yellow, with long, black “eye-lashes”.
We hope to see her metamorphosis {having lost that opportunity with Lucy after her tragic drowning incident} but half expect her to be a hearty snack for one of the many birds that hang around here.
So I sit, at a loss regarding how exactly to handle the Yzma-infestation that appears to be rotting our daughter’s brain. Or something equally as ridiculous sounding as ‘rotting’. Yes, of course I’m being dramatic here, but dude…my daughter just told me she was going to k-e-e-e-l me, in no uncertain terms. And has started saying “dude” a lot. I have no idea why.
{Really, she’s a honey…she just likes to quote wrinkly, evil little women}
Maybe it’s time to “lose” the Emperor’s New Groove…and find Mary Poppins.
Yes. Why yes…I think that will do the trick.
Super-nanny Julie Andrews, come quickly. We need you.
We‘ll even name a bug after you.
Thanks. Over and out.
