From The Mouths Of Babes

I learned a couple of highly instructional things from my daughter over the weekend. For one thing, she knows when her birthday is -- in the abstract, anyway. She knows her birthday is "April 1st." But ask her when April 1st is, and she'll only say "my birthday." Like, she has NO IDEA when April 1st actually is. Could be tomorrow, could be next week, could be a hundred and one days from now. In any case, she knows when her birthday is, and she is very proud of this fact.

(Oh -- that scab on her poor widdle face! The other day at school she was jumping and shrieking and monkeying around and somehow tripped and fell and did a faceplant right into the carpet. Yes, she has her a rugburn on her face, because if there is one thing I have managed to teach that kid, is it that we do NOTHING half-assed in our family.)

She also has the let's-pretend-to-be-shy act down around My Big Fat Slovak-or-Something Family, let me tell you. Everybody but Brittany, she hides from at first. Except the boys, pretty much -- my cousin Brian, the so-called Mayor of Bath, swooped in and picked her up and she was all giggles and sunshine for the rest of the day. We're going to have trouble with that one.

Also, we're still afraid of the Easter Bunny. She wanted NO PART of the Rabbit, excuse to reach into his basket and swipe a quick piece of candy. She claimed she was going to give the Easter Bunny a kiss and a high five, but no such luck. So you're all stuck with me. HA.