Worst Moment Ever.

E: These are buttons on my dress.
Me: These are called sequins.
E: They are called buttons. 

I AM SO DISAPPOINTED. I HAVE FAILED AS A MOTHER. Sure, my child can talk in complete sentences before the age of 2, but she can't even identify a SEQUIN. I will be laying face down in the ditch, if anyone needs me.

Just kidding. I will beat it into her.

Just kidding. I will burn all of her clothes and let her walk around in burlap, like the INGRATE she is.

But moving on. 

Ellie is SO happy that Gigi has returned. We picked her up at the airport on Wednesday, and I expected Beans to run screaming to her Gigi. She seemed more stunned by the hustle and bustle of the airport, but was incredibly happy to get to ride up and down the escalator with Gigi. Then yesterday when we went over before lunch, Gigi was still at the Y. Ellie immediately burst into tears when Grizz told her Gigi was gone, and then she walked around the downstairs crying for Gigi. Poor Grizz. His tenure as the favorite grandparent was sadly brief (he'll have a moment in the sun tonight during ice cream time.)

Ice cream time has actually helped us learn a lot about "waiting our turn." Now when we're stopped at stop lights, Ellie will say "is not our turn," and then when I start driving, she exclaims "it's OUR turn!" Overall though, she has no patience (neither do I.)

The other thing I adore about her lately is our bed time routine. She gets in her jammies (which she pronounces as "pee-jammies") and brushes all those fangs, and then comes in to sit on my lap in her rocking chair. We read Goodnight Moon, and she searches for the mouse on each page. Then when we've said goodnight to everyone, I pick her up and she says "goodnight to Ellie." We sing her lullaby and she waits to give each of us a big kiss on the lips, and then we plop her in bed and someone (usually Tim) sits with her until she falls asleep. Someday, we'll get up and walk out. SOMEDAY. 

This week she's worked on getting herself OUT of bed. The other morning at 5am we heard her crying, and Tim found her out in the living room (thankfully, she went back to bed pretty easily.) On Wednesday she was napping at Gigi's, and all of a sudden I realized she was downstairs with me. She'd gotten up, gotten a little rabbit figurine off the night stand, let herself out of the spare room and trucked down the stairs, rabbit and stuffed animal in hand. She's a funny one, that girl.