The Great British Baking Show

Me: What does it mean "to prove" the dough?
Laura: That's when you get the dough to rise.
Thalia: Poo.
Laura: Not "poo." It's "prove."
Thalia: Poo.
Me: (chuckling harder than necessary for a man my age at my toddler's unintended potty humor...)

Family Names

Thalia calls Laura "Mama." She calls Sophia "Ee-ah." And she calls me "Mamadada." I correct her every time. "Do I look like your mama, child!" She laughs then says "Dada" ad nauseam for no reason in particular...
 

The Unbearable Impermanency of Chocolate

Thalia and I shared a couple of Valentine's Day chocolates. 
Just a few bites, then it was all gone. Mmmm...

Thalia: I want more!
Me: I'm sorry, honey. It's all gone.
Thalia: More!
Me: I know. I'm so sorry.

Then I took her up into my arms and held her close as we wept together...

The CPAP Shrine

Thalia is strangely obsessed with my CPAP. Each day, no matter how much we insist that she is not to play with Daddy's machine, she can't resist sneaking into our bedroom to investigate the strange contraption that I keep stored in a cabinet next to my side of the bed. 

She needs to pull it out and push the buttons that make it light up and hiss like a threatening serpent. 

She needs to build a shrine of toys and dolls on the floor surrounding it like a virgin sacrifice to an awesome and mysterious deity. 

But it's very frustrating for me to come into my bedroom and realize that my CPAP has been blowing air all day, and I often hurt myself on a toy that she's left there...

I think I have a better understanding of how primitive tribes may have developed strange rituals to appease the angry gods...

Night, Night, Elmo!

Thalia: Elmo! Elmo! Elmo! Elmo!

Laura: No, Thalia, we're not going to watch Elmo at four in the morning.

Thalia: Aaaaaughhhh! ELMOOOOOOO!!!...

For forty minutes Thalia screamed for Elmo, until, finally, Laura's patient rocking lulled her back to sleep....We are not fans of Elmo right now.

P.S. A week later, it's my turn to rock Thalia back to sleep at four in the morning. She was perfectly quiet yet perfectly awake, and I was afraid she wouldn't get back to sleep. Then she whispered "Elmo" to me. Oh, no! Not this again! 

She said "Elmo" a few more times before I realized that she wasn't saying his name at all. She was asking for milk: "a mil" – which is short for "I want milk" which sounds like "Elmo" somehow at four in the morning.

I jolted out of my stupor and got the babe some milk right away. Funny enough, the milk did the trick and she was asleep shortly after. 

I would apologize to Elmo for what happened the other morning, but since it wasn't my watch, I can't say whether or not Thalia was thirsting for more milk or for some more furry red Sesame Street fun...

The Multitasker

Laura's Post: 

In the two minutes it took me to serve up the pasta and pour milk, Thalia made a phone call, disconnected the iPad from the WiFi, and painted her face with Wite-Out. The child can multitask!

Daddy's Little Helper

Me: Can you put my sweater in the dirty clothes pile in the bathroom?
Thalia takes my sweater from my hand, walks past the bathroom, walks into the kitchen, and drops the sweater onto the kitchen floor. She returns to me with an accomplished smile.
Me: Thank you.
Thalia: Aaah. (Translation: No problem.)