Little Helper

Louise is two years old. Her vocabulary seems to expand every hour, and her level of understanding and comprehension constantly astounds me. The bad news for Louise is that such obvious brain power makes it easy for Amanda and I to call her bluff on some pitiful tantrums. The tantrums are few and far between, but they happen.

I've written before about the emotions I feel when it comes to the prospect of telling the girls exactly what's wrong with me.  That doesn't even include the anxiety of exactly how I should explain it.

That's where the girls' aforementioned understanding has been particularly helpful.

Louise, having observed Amanda, now tries to help me stand up, get dressed, drink, and take my medicine.

A clever girl.