The other night, I made Thumbelina and myself a blended smoothie in hopes of kicking this cold that we (STILL!) have at the moment. I needed to carry another load of laundry down to the basement, so after reminding her I would be right back (she repeated “riiiiiiiiiiiight back!” to me), I zipped downstairs.

Only to return and see this guilty face waiting for me:

Yes, those are blueberries around her sweet little rosebud mouth. Here is her…creation:

Hmm.

I’m in the midst of reading Raising Our Children, Raising Ourselves by Naomi Aldort. I took a deep breath and first… tried not to laugh. (Lately I find myself giggling helplessly at most of her antics, and she now thinks everything is a joke - like it’s really funny to scale the outer stair railing and precariously circle the living room while balancing her tippy-toes on two inches of trim, five feet from the ground.) I squashed my desire to inquire “why” she felt inclined to put the crayons in her freshly-made drink. Instead, I just commented.

“You put crayons in your smoothie!”

Her eyes lit up and she clapped. I finally just laughed.