Viv is a world. She is a toddler. She has dollies and friends and likes and dislikes. She has opinions. She sings to herself. She sings to us. (We call it Toddler Opera). She is curious, she is cautious. She is simultaneously infuriating and fascinating. She is three years old.
Me, at the end of a long day: "I'm pooped".
Viv, from the back seat: "Oh Mama, in your pants?"