Speak your mind

So I have this daughter named Emmie. You might think I forget about her, what with the fact that I barely ever devote blog posts to her anymore. But Jack is so much more -- how shall we put it -- full of life, so his antics usually get more press just because I couldn't make that shit up and I have to write it down so people actually believe me when I say 3 years old might kill me.

But back to my Sweet Girl. In the last week, Miss Emily has learned to say "Uh-Oh" and "Owie" and "Yucky." Important words in this house, considering both "owie" and "uh-oh" directly relate to the amount of beatdowns she takes at the hands of her brother. And her "yucky" is just too cute for words. So small and sweet-sounding coming out of her mouth.

She's also into animal sounds. But by far her favorite word, as it always has been, is still DaDa. Which is now said loud and with emphasis -- like Da-DAAA! If she even thinks she hears a whisper of Josh's shadow in the general vicinity, she starts yelling for him. When I take her downstairs, heaven help the people on the other end of poor Josh's conference call because they can surely hear her yelling through the closed office door.

This is such a cute age, I forgot how much fun it is. Even the tantrums are funny. Especially compared to a 3-year-old tantrum. Because they don't play, those are the real thing. Emmie's tantrums consist of her throwing herself on the floor and sobbing because a toy was snatched away or, God forbid, I don't grant her highness' wish of a cup of milk instantly. Yesterday I had to remind her to breathe after she freaked out over not being able to get milk out of a straw cup because she insisted on tipping it upside down to drink. The perspective of a second-time parent is a godsend. I just smile and wait her out. This too shall pass.