Since I'm sick and the baby is sick (someday I'll stop calling her that – maybe when she's 40), I'm most amused right now by cuteness.
Whenever Gert means to say Lincoln Logs, she calls them "Lincoln dogs," and I am never going to correct her on that. Because what's cuter than a little, brown, log-shaped puppy in the palm of an earnest three-year-old's hand?
It's just about as cute as her insistence that our neighborhood swimming pool is called "the fwimmin cool." It makes sense, right?
I've also learned that it's great fun in the winter to overfill the bathtub, put a swim suit and flotation device on her, and let her relive her summer's glory while I sit on the can and knit.
I don't really knit on the can. That would be gross.
But I could.
If I wanted to.