Who are you and what have you done with my baby? You certainly can't be my little girl, because my little girl would never get into my cupboards and scatter all my tupperware across the kitchen floor. Her favorite song definitely isn't "My Humps" by the Black Eyed Peas and she would never insist on listening to it over and over again as she bounced on the bed. Her favorite food couldn't possibly be Cheetos and I'd never let her eat something like Twinkies. She wouldn't make a mad dash for the stairway, laughing maniacally, every time we open the front door. She wouldn't even think about pulling all the laundry out of the dryer and throwing it on the floor. And she would never secretly make her way into the kitchen to stash fistfuls of dog food in both cheeks and down her diaper. Nope, certainly not my child.
There's this lip-smacking thing you do when a) you're about to eat something that looks good or b) you've just eaten something that you really enjoyed. One morning, while we were camping, I set you in a flower patch hoping to get some cute pictures. Shortly after I set you down, I heard you smacking your lips and before I knew what was happening, you had bitten off the entire head of one of the flowers. That wasn't the only time I heard your lips smacking that day. I also heard it before you ate a leaf and once again right before you shoved a twig into your mouth.