Run and hug

I've just come down from putting her down. Mommy is doing the dishes. We stand in the kitchen discussing the day.

Suddenly, the loudspeaker blares: "ATTENTION DADDY! ATTENTION DADDY! I ALLOWED YOU TO LEAVE AND NOW NEED TO USE THE POTTY! ATTENTION DADDY! PLEASE RETURN TO TAHLIA'S ROOM AS SOON AS POSSIBLE! ATTENTION DADDY!"

Ok. So she didn't say that, it sounded more like: "DADDY! DADDY?!? I need to go pee-pee! Daddy!"

I grab the potty and head up the stairs.

The room is black as I enter. The small night light is not enough to even cast a light shadow across the room. As I place the potty in its base, I hear the rustling of a small child clambering out of bed. I have enough night vision established now to see a toddler sized body hurtling at me. It slams into me, then clamps it's arms around me. In my ear, I hear, "I love you this much."

I try to hold on.

Mixed animals

She is mixing animals.

It started a last week. We were driving in the car, just Tahlia and me, singing Old MacDonald. Currently, when singing Old MacDonald, Mommy and I pause to let Tahlia tell us what animal we should have on his farm.

We started out with a normal animal -- a horse. The second round, though, became a little odd.

"Old MacDonald had a farm, E I E I O. And on that farm there was a . . . what was there Tahlia?"

"Roar hop." She calls from the back seat.

"What?"

"Roar hop."

I'm not sure what she means. In our house, a roar equals a lion. A hop equals a bunny. "Tahlia, are you a lion-bunny?"

"Yeah." She giggles and smiles.

And we keep singing.