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Steven and Morgan gave me the plague. Thanks a pant-load.

Apparently this is a taste of life with a small child. I'm trying to get Morgan to say she's a tumor. It's not sticking the way some phrases are. She's almost 4 and she seems to like me. Those two facts in tandem really freak me out sometimes. I've known her almost a quarter of her life AND she likes me. I must keep in mind that at this age, she doesn't know any better. Steven told me I get to teach her about her dot when she hits tween-hood. Yikes.

So, I spend a lot of time with them and the three of us are pretty invested. It's a nice, roomy cage-feeling. Safe/a tad scary as opposed to repellent.

I guess I'm okay with getting the Day-Care-Cough-Cold-Mucusy plague a while longer.