Doing things betterly

The amazing logic of a small child -- Nora's newest word is "betterly." As in, "Mama, I can run betterly in my purple flip-flops than in my brown ones." And why not? -ly makes adjectives into adverbs right?

Nora is easier, lately. And so much harder. It feels like a family of three fully-formed people. More so than the ethereal, intensely focused time with a newborn. More so than the hypervigilant, heart-exploding-from-cuteness-every-two-minutes time with a toddler. She can help with chores (unloading the dishwasher is a favorite), she can debate rationally (and we let her win, when she's right), she tells us the most interesting stories, she can climb the jungle gym.

Then again, she can swing from pure sweetness to rage in .5 seconds. Ninety percent of the time, she cannot be tricked or enthused into doing something she doesn't want to do (especially pooping in the potty. Oh, the potty pooping. gah!). She sometimes yells at us, and is learning not to hit. She's super territorial (poor Owen). And she's swayed by peer pressure; witness the announcement that "pink" is her favorite color. Oh, what happened to blue?! Wah.

She's almost three, and mama's crow's feet are showing for the first time, and dada is worried about his (tiny) paunch. Heavens.

She how she's grown, and how she's stayed the same?*



*Year two to year three, not as much difference ... and yes, that is the same red t-shirt in both pictures. But her pigtails are thicker, so the bows stay in betterly.