One of her favorite new phrases is "I don't want any _____________ (fill-in-the-blank)." As you can imagine, her version is not quite as crisp and clear as an adult's would be. (I won't even attempt to spell it phonetically.) Nevertheless, she gets the point across, as demonstrated by two stories from this past week.
On Monday night, we grabbed a quick dinner at Chick-Fil-A after Meg and Matthew's swim lesson. I claimed a large booth right by the restrooms, so there was a lot of foot traffic by our table. On his way to the men's room, one gentleman tried to chat with Esme, but she only stared. On his way back out, he stopped abruptly and gave Esme a big wave and a booming "Hi!" Startled, she stared at him again, then shook her head. "No," she said decisively. The man graciously smiled and shrugged. When he was gone, Esme turned to Dave and me to declare, "I don't want any, 'Hi.'"
On Thursday morning, I was outside with the kids during our recess, and we were playing "camping" in the woods. Esme was a little unsure about our imaginary campfire, hot dog roasting, tents, etc., but when it was time to go to sleep in our "tent," she agreed to come curl up on the ground with me. I started to pretend-snore. You know about how it sounds: "Hggggggghhhhhhhh-shoooooooo... hggggggghhhhhhhh-shoooooooo." After about three of these, Esme lifted her head from its pillowed spot on my belly and looked me straight in the eye. "I don't want any 'shoo.'"
I guess you gotta love a girl who knows what she wants. Or what she doesn't want, in this case.