Tom has been on an omelette-making kick for the last few weeks, in an attempt to get more protein into all of our diets. I don't know how he manages, but every morning he's been whipping one up for Abby and Michael, for me, and finally, for himself.
Abby, however, has been becoming rather disinterested with the selection (unless it's in the form of stolen bites off of someone else's plate. She did seem to enjoy the boiled egg that Tom made for her yesterday, though, so he offered it again this morning.
Despite having requested egg when asked what she wanted, her answer to his offer was a resounding "no." They went back and forth a bit, until Tom finally brought two eggs out and placed them in front of her, and she wolfed them down with gusto.
Fast-forward to this afternoon, when Tom came in from outside with the delicate pieces of a broken Robin's egg spread across his palm. Excitedly, he said to Abby, "Look! What do you think this is?" She didn't recognize it, so he explained that it had been an egg, and a baby bird had hatched from it. Then he asked, "What should we do with it?"
"We have to put it together," she said.
As Tom and I chuckled, she added. "I want to eat those eggs."
***
If that wasn't enough Abby fun for you...
Overheard yesterday as she was baby-talking to her little sis: "You came home from the hospital and you were so naked. You're a tiny little baby."
As Tom was leaving the room this evening after putting her to bed: "Where are you going Daddy?"
"Daddy is going to bed," he answered.
"Daddy has to take out the trash," she corrected.
Realizing that it was, indeed, trash night (I suppose she must have overheard us talking about it earlier) he said, "Yes. And then, Daddy is going to bed."
