Presumably one would learn a lot about being a mother from one's female parental unit. However, I'm not sure where The Girl is studying these days. This morning, I found her bent over The Baby, daubing a some spit up with a rag, saying, "Don't spit up again or I'll have to give you a spank." I've never said that. Bemoaned being doused, perhaps, but never meted out any punishment to the offenders. They are just too cute and smiley after they spit up and besides, I probably overstuffed them in the first place.

Later, in the tub she was celebrating the birthdays of all the bath toys. Singing Happy Birthday in her own special way and then handing them to me to be eaten, at which point she would throw them in "the garbage" (a certain quadrant of the bathtub). As you may have guessed, we usually don't serve our children for dinner on their birthdays, nor deposit them in the nearest trash receptacle, maybe only for really special occasions. (We are the Adams family, after all.)