The cuteness level in my house can sometimes reach critical mass.  To live with Evie is to experience a chain reaction of adorable that starts in the morning and doesn’t end until she lays her little head down on her Tinkerbell pillow at night.  Cuteness still emanates from her sleeping body, filling the room with pink and purple butterflies and pulsating waves of glitter. 

 Here are some examples:


 On top of Evie’s dresser, nestled between her ladybug lamp and fishless fish tank is a pink and white spotted ceramic piggy bank.  About a month ago, I took it down and explained to Evie what it was used for.  We marveled and exclaimed over it for a few minutes, and then up it went, back to its home on top of the dresser.  I thought it was forgotten.  I was wrong.

Last week, as I was brushing my teeth, Evie walked into the bathroom and declared, “I need pig.  I have four minnies.”

She opened her little balled-up fist to reveal four sweaty coins swiped from her daddy’s nightstand.  These were her “minnies” or, “monies”.   I love it when the Eviespeak word actually means another Eviespeak word which means the actual concept.

Of course I got the pig down for her, and of course it lives now on my nightstand.  So, now, every morning, she grabs handfuls of monies from her Daddy’s change jar.  Some are deposited in the pig, but most are spread out all over the nightstand.  She’s also taken to inserting my comb into the coin slot of the poor thing and yanking it back and forth.  I don’t know.  Sometimes toddlers insert things into other things just because they fit.  Hence, childproofing.


 (Something you should know before you read on:  One of Evie’s most favorite things in the world is ketchup, aka “hatchup”.  She adores it.  Every plate I set down in front of her must contain a red puddle of it.  If I’d let her, she’d eat hatchup with everything – chicken nuggets, French fries, bread, cereal, freakin’ strawberries.  Everything.  You understand what I’m telling you?  There is no end to my child’s love of watered-down tomato paste in a squeeze bottle.  Okay, carry on.)

 Did you know that you can access almost any Disney movie you want on YouTube?  I definitely don’t know that, and I would never do anything like that.  But if I did know that and decided, what the hell, I’ll do it anyway, I might create an account for Evie and save as many Disney movies as I could so we could watch them on a whim.  And I might throw in a couple Woody Allen flicks for Mommy, too.  That’s what I might do. 

 And Evie and I might take to watching one of these movies on my little-laptop-that-sometimes-could as we got ready in the morning.  And say, hypothetically, we were watching Pochantas this morning and the little-laptop-that-sometimes-could got stuck and needed time to load, and Evie expressed great dismay at the frozen screen.

 I might say something like, “It’s okay, honey, the pooter just needs time to catch up.”

 And then Evie might squint her eyes, furrow her brow, shake her head and vehemently exclaim in deep offense, “No, Mommy!  Is pooter! Is not hatchup!”

 And then I might laugh out loud and give her a big hug because, my lord, that is so freakin’ adorable.


 Evie loves to dance.  She’s good, too.  I mean, we’re not ready for Star Search or anything, but I’ve been to a couple of clubs in my day and seen worse.  Hell, I’ve done worse.  Sober.  Anyway.  Like most white people, Evie does her best moves when she thinks no one’s watching.  If you make too much over her when she decides to get down a little, she’ll stop immediately.   Sometimes, though, she’s simply overcome by the need to shake her booty and must stop whatever she’s doing to boogie down for a second. 

 Last weekend, I was cleaning the bathroom and rockin’ out to some Pearl Jam.  When did I get old?  Anyway, unbeknownst to me, Evie and her daddy were doing a little rockin’ out themselves in Evie’s bedroom.  I walked out into the hall just in time to see my little girl strut her fine stuff down the hallway and whip around into a dead-on Travolta pose, complete with pointed fingers and head cocked awesomely to the side. 

 That Evie.  She is so outta sight.

 People, this is but a small sampling of what I live with day to day.  At times it’s almost too much to bear, and Gill and I must get some balance.  So we occasionally enjoy a bad SyFy movie or a depressing documentary.  After all, even little Evie’s cuteness can’t compete with the tragedy of our dying planet or Mansquito.

 Or can it?