Have I mentioned that Anya is insane lately? She's a tiny little freak full of random actions, thoughts and unpredictability. She speaks baby talk as often as possible, throwing the vast majority of her words out the window. The other day, she randomly stripped down to socks and underwear and then strutted around the room with her hands on her belly, crowing. Mark took one look and said, "I am SO going to work like that tomorrow!"
"Three must be awesome." I commented. Lily streaked into the room and did a wild, spastic dance before rolling on her tummy into the kitchen.
"Five doesn't look so bad, either." He added.
See, I have to keep reminding myself that kids are not rational. Fighting a kid with logic is like square dancing naked. You can do it, but I'm not sure you'd get the results you're looking for. I don't remember Lily being such a goof at this age, but then, I can't remember the vast majority of the conversations I had yesterday, so you can't rely on that meaning anything. Mark insists that we've been here before and so I'm going with that. Especially when Lily arrives in the bedroom with five layers of clothing and announces that she was too hot, so she had to put all this stuff on.
Along with her awesome self expression, Lily is practicing for what I fear will be the mother load of evil tantrums. Last two days in a row she's worked herself into such a deep fit over leaving school that I almost want to ask a teacher there to adopt her so she never has to leave. Of course, the teachers know better so I can't get that one over on them. And despite rumors to the contrary, I don't think any of the teachers actually live on campus.
Being three and five seems to be an awesome thing; hard, dirty, loud and illogical, but also awesome. After they go to bed, I'm totally trying out the socks and underwear strut. Maybe then I'll figure out what's in her insane little head. But I'm still using my feet to get into the kitchen. I'm too old to get around on my belly anymore.