Quinlan has been reading for a few months now, but it's usually the compelling story of "The Big Pig," the always rhyming adventures of "Tim and Sam," or one of those "Read it Yourself" books that have absolutely no story line but are comprised of three-letter words and damnit they can read it themselves.
So last night when she read her brother an entire Dora book that he had just thrown at me and therefore had relinquished his rights to his mother reading it to him, I was impressed.
Also, I now realize that I'm screwed. But I guess already knew that.
She's also writing us awesomely sweet love notes that she silently hand delivers and then, even more importantly, reuses on the appropriate occasions.
We couldn't be prouder of her eco-conscious efforts.
Yes, your parenting resume' is not complete without at least one nastygram, or really five, if you count the times she's handed this to me.
But even better than her letters are her books, which she spends all her free time at school and most afternoons writing.
"Princsses Girl" (Her first princess tale, surprisingly enough)
"The princesses groop is fun." Also, Pocohantas kills me dead every single time I see her.
But my favorite, thus far, is her first holiday book.
"Christmes *wrees are here for Lily" *worries
Worries? What worries could a little girl have at Christmas you ask?
"It is Christmes, I'm wree'd I'm not geting gif's."
Hmmm. On second thought, maybe this is the beginnings of a memoir - the names already changed to protect the "innocent."