You've been going to the babysitter for just over a month now. You love it. You are so happy to go that you'll let me put a ponytail in your hair and get you dressed in under five minutes. (I tend to bend the truth and tell you that Amy requires your hair in a ponytail or pigtails, so that speeds things up.)
Everytime we drive by (because it's on our way to the Nana's and the Home Depot), you say "Bye Amy!" When we walk in the door in the morning, you cannot stop talking about "da cute witto babies," while stroking the blonde one's cheek. I love asking you about your day. What you did, what you ate, did you have a nap. (Played, noonals and sauce, yes - though from what we hear, you don't sleep for more than two minutes if at all.)
It's especially cute when you are looking out the window while we drive or when you're trying to sleep, you'll blurt out something like, "David had a sore tummy and den he fell down a hurt his lip on the floor." Or "Soapy had a pee pee diaper." And "Banana is so cute."
But we didn't know who David was. Maybe a little boy who got dropped off after and picked up before you? So one day Dad asked Amy. "His name's Zaiden. There is no David." But you so clearly say David and we don't know anyone or any character named David. And Banana? That's Alanna Banana, Zaiden's baby sister whom you totally adore. And Soapy, of course, is Sophie.
I wonder what you call us when we're not around.