Potty mouth

In a little less than two months, Maya will be two. On one hand, I can't believe she's so big already. On the other, I feel like she's already been two for months. She's running and talking and becoming opinionated. We can almost have little conversations with her. It's pretty incredible.

She's at the age, though, that sometimes only Chris and I know what she's saying or what she means. "Choo choo," for example, means she wants to watch Thomas the Engine. "Gaga" means she wants to listen to music (the kid likes Lady Gaga. I have no idea how that happened). And "beer" is what she calls anything adults drink, be it coffee, tea, wine, whatever. To her, it's all "beer" (we are awesome parents).

And then there are the even more troublesome mispronunciations, especially these three: Spoon, which she pronounces "poon"; Grape, which she pronounces "rape"; and fork, which she pronounces as, well... I assume you can figure that one out.

I know this will pass. But until then, please accept my apologies for my foul-mouthed little lady. She can't help it. She takes after her mother. And her father.