Oh! That's How It All Connects!

So I did not post a photo montage for Lotus' birthday. I am a horrible mother.

Instead, I will tell you about Lotus' newest verbal twitch, which she seems to have picked up now that she's seven.

One of the things she wanted to do on her birthday was have me show her how to bake a cake. So we went to the grocery store, where she picked out a white cake mix (I am not awesome enough to make cakes from scratch. Yet). Getting it home, we read over the directions, and assembled all the necessary ingredients. It was at this time that I realized that the recipe called for three egg WHITES. Separating egg yolks from whites is something that makes me vomit a little in the back of my throat while rolling my eyes in horror. I expressed this to Lotus, who asked me why we needed to use just the egg whites.
"I don't know. I guess to keep the cake white, and not turn it yellow from the yolk."
"Oooooooh!" she said, nodding sagely (now that she's seven, she has accumulated enough sage to have it show up in her nodding), "That's how it all connects!" I looked at her out of the corner of my eye, but didn't say anything- weird little precocious gems come out of her mouth all the time. It's best to ignore them.

But the phrase seems to be more than a passing thing. Today, while looking at our two watermelons that has astonished the whole family by a) appearing from our watermelon vine in the first place b) keeping an aggressive and forward momentum on their growth and c) surviving the curious pokings and proddings of five little children (and at least two adults), she asked me why I didn't water the melons themselves, but instead put water at some obscure point three feet away from the fruit. I explained that I watered where I originally put the plant, since I assumed that's where the majority of the root system was located, and the vines would carry the nutrients along to the fruit.
"OOooooh!" she said again, in the same serious voice and the same serious nod of the head, "that's how it all connects." This time, a snort escaped me, but I managed to cover it up with a fake-turning-into-real coughing fit.

Just a few minutes ago, I was tucking her in, and idle chatter was being exchanged. She was showing me one of her new "Hank the Cowdog" books she got for her birthday, and describing the exploits of Hank, this time in the company of his sister's puppies.
"So those puppies are his neices and nephews?" I asked, looking at the cover. "Huh. I never pegged Hank for having any family."
"Mommy, are neices and nephews what you call your sister's kids?"
"Yup. Or your brother's kids."
"And neices are girls and nephews are boys?" she asks.
"Yup."
"ooooh!" here it comes again. "That's how it all connects!"

I love seven. So many mysteries of existence suddenly become understandable, and you're not too old yet to notice them when they do.