Today at lunch, Margaret was a little recalcitrant and squirrely, because her grandmother had taken her swimming this morning which tires her out. This is a good thing, because currently she is asleep in her room, and Ellie is in the living room like so:
And that’s a swaddle that happened AFTER she went to sleep, so she’s really out. Good times.
Anyway, Margaret was being somewhat challenging at lunch.
This is her coy “who me? Butter wouldn’t melt in my mouth, and now that you mention it, I could demonstrate that fact to you if you wouldn’t mind giving me some butter and if you won’t I’m going to lunge across the table and grab it in handfuls” look.
So she did that, and as I was holding onto her arm which had the butter-covered hand attached to it, she yelled “No don’t do it that’s Mommy’s . . . your . . . Margaret.” The end sort of trailed off as she realized that she was yelling at Mommy, and she subsided. It was very cute. And buttery.