Today I walked into Ellie's room (where she was playing) and said, It smells interesting in here.
A wrinkled nose and the comment, Yeah, it smells like poop.
I'm not sure I want to know how she came to that conclusion so quickly.
Also, lately she keeps telling me this story about how she's in soccer school and this one time a girl kicked a ball right into Ellie's nose. And then it bleeded and then she got takeded to the doctor and then the doctor said, (and this is always the part where Mr. O suggests, No more monkeys jumping on the bed? to which Ellie gets a look like Silly daddy you've mixed up the stories and shakes her head at him then ploughs right on ahead with her original line of thinking and then the doctor said, Dontcha know you're not ah-spposed to stop balls with your nose, use your head!
The interesting thing in all of this is that Miss Ellie has never been to soccer school and she was of the wee-right-out-of-the-womb variety when her sisters were thick in the middle of soccer season. My point being that unless she has memory capacities that far out-reach any infant she must be putting together bits and pieces of stories from current playmates and constructing her own dream sports arena for which soccer, baseball and volleyball are the key inspirations.