Matt and some guys from his office are trying to get together to play basketball once a week or so. So last night, he dropped Penny off at home and changed clothes and then left again, zip-zoom.

I wondered if I was going to be playing parent to the Adorable Little Girl or to Raging Toddler Fury.

But first! Elmo!

When Elmo was done, it was time for Penny's dinner. I think she doesn't like the new flavor of beef-and-noodles I got for her. She slucked down her orange bits as fast as she could get them into her mouth, and then begged for more. I gave her some yogurt instead, and she ate that well enough.

After dinner, she wanted to go upstairs to play. I noticed on the way up the stairs that her hands were a bit sticky, despite my having washed them, so when we got to the top, I took her into the bathroom and made her wash her hands again.

Penny, of course, wanted to keep playing in the sink. But I'm not nearly strong enough to hold her up for as long as she likes to play, and I didn't want her to sit on the edge of the sink and get her shoes all wet.

And then, I had a brainstorm. There's an old chair in her room that we use to pile things on. I un-piled it, and brought it into the bathroom for Penny to stand on while she played in the sink. I sat on the toilet, where I could grab her if she accidentally tried to step off the chair. (She never did, though, not even when she decided she needed to sit down on the chair and drink water from the little cup she was playing with. She spilled a lot of water on herself, but she was very precise about the edges of the chair.)

While I was watching her play, I noticed that Matt's camera was right there in the bathroom. I'm not sure why; maybe he'd been thinking of taking a picture of her in the bath. Or maybe the maid moved it there from the bannister. Whatever. I grabbed it and took some pictures.

I'll update the photo album soon.

Eventually, Penny tired of playing in the sink, and then it was just about time for her to change into her pyjamas. And then we played on my bed for a while. Penny's a big fan of the roll-roll-roll game, where I hold her on my chest and roll back and forth along the bed. I get the very biggest giggle when I'm rolling over top of her, squishing her.

Of course she's also fond of the game where she stands up on the bed and runs at top speed toward a random edge, making me lunge to grab her before she can fall over. (As with the chair, she seems to actually be hyper-aware of where the edges are, and almost always stops before she actually gets there. My panic isn't because I think she doesn't see the edge, but because she's not always the most coordinated little person on the planet, and she might stumble and fall despite seeing it. Once, playing on the guest bed, she was fooled by an overhanging pillow, and wound up about three-quarters off the bed, wedged between the bed and the wall and hanging on with all her might until I rescued her.)

Then we went downstairs, and the instant I sat on the couch, she was grabbing my hand and pulling me up again. She took me into the kitchen, and pointed at the box of Cheerios on the counter.

"Is that a baby on the box?"

"No!" She pointed. "P'ease?"

"You want some Cheerios?"

"Yes." (I love the way she says "yes." It's very clear, but she always trails upward at the end, as if asking a question. "Yes?" It amuses.)

"No, sweetie. You already had your dinner, and it's too late for eating now. Do you want some milk?"

"No! Ee-os!"

I braced myself for a tantrum. I got her some milk anyway, while she continued to plead for Cheerios. She refused the milk, then whined when I started to put it away, so I gave it back to her. She pointed at the Cheerios again.

"No," I said, and walked out of the room. Here it comes, I thought.

But it didn't. She knocked back a slug of milk, and followed me back into the living room.

Not long after that, Matt came home. Since she'd asked, several times, for "Dada," she glomphed onto him when he came through the door, and didn't let go until he'd read her half a dozen books. She was still pretty keyed up when we read her bedtime books, but she went to bed without a protest.

She's my good little girl.

--Liz