I really should stop recommending everyone go over to Lileks’ Bleat column, since I’m sure anyone with discriminating taste goes there anyway. But since he’s channeling life from my house, I just had to quote this passage.
You try making supper with a toddler hanging on your leg whining Daaaadeee, daaaadeee. Do puzzle. Do puzzle. (Cue super-adorable voice:) Do budderfie puzzle together, Daddee. So I pick her up to go do the butterfly puzzle together, and am rewarded with “I love you, Daddee.” So sweet.
You have to remember that a few minutes later when she pours a glass of juice on the table and slaps her palms on the little sticky lake, just because she can.
Extra props to Margie, who gets to deal with this more often than I do.
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