Last night I was up past midnight watching The Return of the King. I didn't finish, but I figured my kids probably wouldn't sleep in if I actually needed them to sleep in, so I called it quits right after the battle for Minis Tirith. I was woken up this morning by my daughter, the Orclette, telling me quite seriously that "It's morning time momma. The sun is up! We need to be up! It's morning time!" She does this every morning, so it wasn't a shocker, but I haven't been sleeping well lately. I believe I growled at her and then groggily made my way to the coffeepot.
She didn't stop there, however. She thought it'd be a great idea for me to get her milk and could she please sit in the chair that I painted with flowers and turn on a movie and oh could the drink be milk and I am cold momma so I need some cold water to make my tummy feel better and where is my milk?
As you can imagine, I did not find this amusing. I think I had managed to get the coffee pot filled with water by the time she finished that particular soliloquy. Then she started telling me how we should go about getting Uncle Boddert from the airport (he arrived back from India today and we were very excited about this) and what we needed to bring and how we needed to clean out the car. The coffee was brewing at this point so I was in a kinder frame of mind which allowed me to recognize her chatter as almost an exact copy of how I usually explain our plans for the day. I never talked babytalk to her when she was a baby; I talked to her as though she were an adult and found out that explaining how we were going to do things (even though she didn't really care because she was an infant) helped me to better organize everything. So I've continued doing it.
I guess you could say I've brought the officiousness and bossiness on myself. On the other hand, she appears to be developing a well-organized mind, so it'll be worth the years of having my mini-me help me plan things.