Charlotte has pointed out to me that instead of asking her or Thomas or Daddy to get something, I should just do it myself.  But doesn’t she get it, that’s partly why we have kids–to eventually train them to help us out.  Isn’t that why farm families traditionally included multiple siblings, to have extra hands around?  Of course I’m kidding but I did encourage them to wear swimsuits and wipe down the kitchen floor this week.  Whatever works.  It can be tough to get command of the troops when they say things so spot on, you can’t deny their level of intelligence is advancing more quickly than a parent can keep up.  “My mom’s a talker,” Dave overheard Charlotte telling a friend on our driveway yesterday as I walked out to talk to a neighbor who stopped the car and rolled down her window to chat.  Hours later as I said goodbye to head back to work she asked me, “Aren’t you going to say bye to P-O-O-C-H?”  Pooch is my longtime term of endearment for her father and she coyly threw that question out to me spelling the nickname for more impact.  It worked.  She’s on to me.  Now get down and scrub the dirt off the tile.

Posted under Baby Thomas: Month 48