Next Time!

Julia doesn't exactly strike fear into anyone's hearts (unless you count the timid, long-tailed cat or her parents when she gags on a mouthful of pasta), but she's lately adopted a catchphrase that wouldn't be out of place in Julia: 35 Inches of Justice: "Next time!"

Really, it's not the words - which are squeaked out as"necks dyme!" in her tweety voice - that are so faux-frightening, but her ability to choose the right moment to use them. On Monday, our evening walk was interrupted by a frighteningly loud dumptruck, which caused her to climb up into my arms, cowering until it passed, but then to shriek, "Next time!" I mentally inserted, "You're not the boss of me!" because I knew that's what she meant.

Now the phrase has become a statement of dominance. Two nights ago, while I was hoisting her down from her changing table, she grabbed her little stuffed duckie by the bill and threw him, hard, down onto the floor: "Next time!" A few minutes later, she flung her stuffed cat - "Ditty," whom she loves terribly - down both flights of steps, coolly saying "Next time!" as he bounced down. And then this morning, after saying, "Bye-bye, Daddy!" while I was still eating my cereal, she reindicated her readiness for my departure by yelling, "Next time!" when I finally walked out, leaving her to her Mama.