"Does T3 have a Daddy?"

Yes, that's correct. The title of this blog is the question my 3.5 year old asked, in all sincerety, at dinner tonight. With the most serious expression, she remarked that I have Bobo, T has JJ and GJ, and she has me, but who is T3's Daddy? Not to worry, T set her straight pretty fast!

I understand my readers are desperate for new material! It's my intention and desire to provide just that. Since it's been over a month since my last post (as my sister so kindly reminded me!) there's much to share. On Friday, January 4th, I was standing at the bathroom sink when I heard T3 screaming with delight. I looked in his direction and found that my army crawler had pulled up on the toilet! He was standing there, each tiny finger of his left hand curled around the toilet seat, while his right arm beat the toilet bowl as he shrieked with glee! Since then he's begun pulling up on EVERYTHING! The sofa, chairs, the bathtub, he's even made it up a few steps (supervised!). It's a new adventure and he's quite proud of himself! This afternoon when I went to get him up from his nap, he was sitting in his crib! What a big guy! Why am I surprised that he's growing up?

MW is full of herself. More so now, than ever before. To say she's animated would be an understatement. She has more energy than anyone I know! She's also been doing some major pouting. A few days ago we were signing in at the gym and she was pouting about having to go to the nursery. The girl behind the counter said to MW, "You better suck in that lower lip, girl." I've never seen MW with such a startled expression. She "sucked in" her lower lip and managed a weak smile.

Tonight in the middle of cooking dinner I paused for a few quick "kodak moments" of what every night of preparing dinner is like in our home. T3 "talking" loudly, all the while T is trying to spoon goop into his mouth. MW always enjoys "helping." Tonight she "cooked" honey for dinner. How does a 3.5 yr old "cook" honey? Well, first she pulls out several of my pots and pans, and always the strainer (which usually winds up on her head). She brought down her "honey pot" (the wooden bowl T played with as a baby) and giraffe. She gathered pecans from the bowl on the dining room table, and began "cooking." In no time at all, she had a "honey pot" full of "honey" that needed to be refrigerated so it could "cool." Being the grown up 3.5 years that she is, she can now open the refrigerator by herself. She found an open spot on a shelf on the door! Now we never ate the honey. Some nights she's adamant that we try whatever concoction she's created, but not tonight. (Like a few days ago when she made "chocolate milk." Translation: dirt and water...)

A few days ago I realized MW had disappeared. I quietly crept through the house, listening for her. As I neared our bedroom I saw the door was almost closed and so I peeked! MW had her milk on my bedside table and she'd snuck two cookies and had them on T's bedside table. She danced, with a bite of cookie in her mouth, from his bedside table, around the bed, to my bedside table, where she drank her milk from a straw, all the while dancing! Next she danced a little more, until she reached the foot of the bed, where she did some sort of alien meets football player strut, after which she collapsed in a heap on the floor and rolled around. Oh, did I mention she'd trapped Ramsey in there with her. He was whimpering at the door.

Speaking of MW in our bedroom, a few nights ago I'd taken out my pearl earrings (that T gave me on our one year anniversary - they are VERY SPECIAL to me!) and left them on my bedside table. The next night, we were climbing into bed and T pointed out that one of my pearl earrings was on the bed. We turned the room upside down! We searched everywhere! We can't find the other pearl. I offered MW a Polly Pocket if she could remember where she left it. She said maybe Chick-fil-A...ha! I can't remember the last time we ate there! I'm so sad. T keeps telling me we'll find it. I suppose we've both learned lessons about where we leave things.

T left his reciprocating saw out in the garage and his workshop door unlocked. Someone stole the saw as well as his DeWalt cordless drill! That took guts to walk around the house, through a fence, to the back of our yard, and to go into the garage and into T's workshop. You can barely see into our garage from our the fence between our neighbor's backyard and ours. I've analyzed it to death and I have my suspicions! (And no, it's not our backdoor neighbors!) Needless to say, we've both learned lessons about where we leave our things. (Did I mention the next day the coasters off our bedside tables went MIA?)

What to do with these precious little ones? And the "little fairies" that keep taking my things! (That one's for you, Mom!)