A few weeks ago right after she woke up I asked her if she had any dreams. "Yes" she said. "What did you dream about?" I asked. "Boys" she said.

I asked her the same question today and she answered with crocodiles.

I recently became tired of waiting (and waiting!) to hear about our short sale and decided to go ahead and set up baby camp. I've spent quite a bit of time these last few days trying to make things like beds, furniture and clothes fit. (It's not easy getting a family of almost four to fit into 1,000 sq feet). The other night I stood in the middle of the girls room and looked around to see if there was any other furniture arrangement I hadn't tried, hoping to come up with some miraculous idea that would somehow double the size of their room. Devan was sitting on the bed and noticed me in deep thought. This was her response:

"Mom. Think about ME, not the baby!"

Of course I lovingly reassured her that I am in fact ALWAYS thinking about her, whether or not she believes it. But really, can you believe that? And since when does a 2 year old call their mother Mom? I thought I'd get at least a few more years of "Mama" or "Mommy"!

On a side note, here's Devan, a few moments after they pulled all 8lbs 9oz of her from my guts. Notice the big frownie face. I should have known from the beginning she'd be a stubborn one!