My daughter is trying to kill me.

So.

Today I went for a quick workout and then volunteered in the childcare room of the local Y for a couple of hours. I figured it was easier than trying to coach a sport I don't know enough about again, right?

S was in the childcare room with me, obviously, and today I was hanging with the babies. It's so stress free, really. The kids in the baby area are almost always very laid back and cool. So how was S trying to kill me, you may be wondering? She was 61 kinds of jealous that I was paying attention to other kids and decided to make like a blanket and wrap herself around me. Which wouldn't have been much of a big deal except that featured in the laid back baby line-up today were two Houdini-like escape artists. And preventing them from escaping was a bit more difficult when I literally had to unfold S from around me or on top of me first.

After all that, S was too tired to stand or walk on her own (so she claimed) so I used the surefire 's' word of my own to get her moving: shopping. A friend of the kids is having her birthday party this weekend and I was determined not to wait until the last minute to get her gift. Shocking, I realize, but true all the same.

Not long after leaving the Y, S and I found ourselves in Target. S constantly surprises me with her fashion sense and her ability to put together outfits. Today we played a little game: I handed her a shirt with a strange pattern or color and she was supposed to find something to go with it.

People? Every. Single. Time. She did it every single time. I'm so impressed! (I want to recommend her to "What Not To Wear" as a consultant except for that pesky child labor thing.) The downside is that she then wants to purchase all of the outfits and isn't super thrilled to hear all the 'no's' that my mouth utters. Overall, though, she took it well.

After T came home from school today, we headed out to her preschool picnic. The preschoolers all met at a certain time and played some games together, and then said a prayer together before most of the families went to get something to eat. We ended up standing right beside the teacher saying grace with a bullhorn and right before she said "Amen" S let out a burp that would have made a frat house stand up and applaud. Of course it blew through the bullhorn too. You could hear the giggles all the way around. Mortifying. Even T was embarrassed. I prompted S, "At least say excuse me!" Her reply, "no thank you, Mommy."

Trying. To. Kill. Me.