Yesterday I was sitting next to Emma on the couch. She was sipping juice from a cup which I had just washed, filled, and given to her.
She was watching The Wiggles--a show for very young kids, roughly on par with Barney, slightly less obnoxious, but slightly more cheeseball. The Wiggles were sitting around the kitchen table, talking about germs and dirt, and why it's important to wash your hands and whatnot.
The dirt on dirty dishes is particularly germy, one of them said, which is why it's so important for us to wash our dishes.
Emma, whose second birthday was two weeks ago, turned to me and said, "Thank you washing Emma's cup, Daddy."
So as to avoid the reputation of a braggart, I hereby provide a second Emma story to counter the first one.
Last night I was laying next to her, trying to get her to sleep. (She still needs one of us in the bed to fall asleep.) It was taking forever, and my patience was running thin. Emma was almost asleep for the umpteenth time when she turned over and said, "Stop it. Stop it." She then breathed heavily through her nose to illustrate the problem. She wanted me to stop breathing because it was keeping her awake.
I explained, not very pleasantly, that her request was unreasonable, and that I would not comply. This hurt her feelings, which made the whole falling asleep process take that much longer.