SELF SELF SELF: buckling can be a dangerous knowledge.  No matter how quickly we want to get on the road or if there is rain pounding on my rear as it sticks out of the car.  "Self, self, self" she says as she wants to buckle her car seat.  I do all the rest and she occasional feels that she is being restricted of her freedom to learn when I do not allow her to do the other parts of the contraption. 

Straw = Soda. You have a straw in your cup therefore it must be soda...unless it is lemonade. Yemoyade. If I have a cup in the driver's cupholder it is a signal to the little C to ask for Soda or Yemoyade. Ah, LOGIC!

Okay. Here's love for ya: play smack down on Mama's arm and then lean in and give me a big wet kiss. Step 3: start all over again. Sweet kid.

How red CAN my face and eyes get as I have disdain for my parents in a crying fit over wanting to buckle myself into my stroller. Oh, what a nice ride we had up and down Central St. in Evanston. Oh, what an awfully red little girl returned hoem with us. CRYING her eyes out.

How many tones of whine are there: Charlotte has brought the whine to an entirely new level of perfection with a whine that echoes and is rollercoaster like in quality. What sound. And I thought her high pitched joyous shreiking could get on my nerves. Oy Chaval!