Smarty pants

Apparently I have not noticed that I have a walking, talking 3-year old. Or at least, I was not aware that you could have small talk with aforementioned 3-year old. It's like chit chatting with a friend. Only she's young and she lives in your house. And you swear that last you looked, she was a baby. Now she is getting taller by the day and is so skinny. Where did those wonderful baby fat thighs go??? Oops, somehow I ended up with them. Anyway, this skinny girl makes small talk. Here is our conversation Monday night, after they spent the day at the zoo with my cousin Jessica, Pat worked at Jess's house, and I was at work.

Carly: Mom, Jessica has a tv at her house now.
Me: Yes, I know I saw it.
Carly: When were you there?
Me: I picked Daddy up for lunch today.
Carly: And then you brought him back to Jessica's? Hmm, what did you eat?
Me: Chinese
Carly: With rice?
Me: Yes, with rice.
Carly: And Daddy had fried rice? (I nod). How was it?

Either this shows that we eat Chinese too much or my baby is growing up. She asked how our lunch was like such a grown-up. And she seemed genuinely interested.

We played in the backyard last night with a new bat and ball. I was pitching, Daddy was helping Carly hit. Then Pat pitched to me and I hit a few. Carly was such a cheerleader. "Good throw Daddy." "You are very good at that Mommy." She caught on quickly and whenever I would throw one that she did not hit, she would say, "Aw, bad throw." Such a smarty-pants.