Being a chick

This morning we were doing a little before-school shopping. The weather is turning cooler here in Northern Virginia, and while I have enough fall clothes for Michelle, I realized her summer shoes probably aren't going to work much longer. So, as we were cruising through Target, my sweet little 4 year old looks at me and says,"Mommy, I'm a chick." I was kind of surprised to hear this innocent child refer to herself in such terms, so I asked her what she said, and again she said she was a chick.

I asked her who told her she was a chick, thinking she was learning such terminology at preschool, or perhaps from her older brother. She said someone at school, and I am thinking of the discussion I am going to have with her teacher at drop off time.

Then, she looks in the basket I am pushing around the store, and she says,"I'm a chick. And in here is my nest."

I need to remember when I am with the 4 year old, think like a 4 year old.