Yesterday I bought crayons, to feed my daughter's increasing love of colouring. There's crayon on the BAYBEE. On my stove. On the wall. On the floor. And at one time on the back of my leg, when she hiked up my yoga pants and tried to see if "orange-red" would indeed make an impression.
She handed me that crayon afterwards, and said "lellow!". Points given for even naming a colour, kid! But not quite.
Over the course of the day I found her:
* on top of the couch, climbing on the arm
* climbing on the table next to the couch
* trying to climb the coffee table
* climbing on the stool in the kitchen and trying to reach things on the counter
* climbing up onto the seat of the stroller, standing there with a box of cookies I had bought earlier that day.
She said "dankg ooo" when her brother gave her a cookie. She said "bye bye baby!" when we left. She keeps giving us hugs and laughs when her brother plays with her.
The baby, she is all gone now.
And I'm so loving the toddler that I can't begin to be sad about that.
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