I've been woefully behind in posting, so tonight's post will be a hodgepodge of bits to get you all caught up (no photos, though, I've also been woefully behind in my 'picture-taking' [as Margot calls it]).
About ten days ago, Margot kept repeating, "Mommy, Daddy, happy! Mommy, Daddy, happy!" "Wow," I thought. Not only is that a profound realization on her part, but it means that Brodie and I must really be projecting joy out into the world (not typical of our personalities). Have I been smiling more? Maybe staying at home is really agreeing with me. Is grad school really that enjoyable for Brodie? Will I have to give away all of my Morrissey/Smiths CDs?
For several days Margot kept it up, and I basked in the knowledge that Brodie and I were great parents providing a secure and positive environment for our child.
Then I realized that Margot was repeating a phrase from her current favorite book, The Potty Book [for Girls]. After the book's heroine Hannah successfully uses the potty and tosses her diapers, the narrative reads, "Mommy and Daddy are happy, and I feel proud of me." (Or something to that effect.)
So it's not Brodie and I who are happy, but a fictional Mommy and Daddy. It figures. Oh well, at least I can keep my Smiths CDs.