The kid has a memory like a steel trap, we already know that. Her first day back in the NYC apartment in almost two months, and she's reading all the Thomas books out loud to herself [of course, they only have five words each, and they're dumb to boot--"round" and "arched" are NOT opposites, yo--and you already memorized them, too, just by passing near them on the bookstore shelf. But still.
But then she was standing next to me as I opened the medicine cabinet, which looks like a pill-popping version of the "I Spy" books, and she immediately says, "Baby snot. Baby snot." Of course, she's talking about the baby snot sucking squeegee ball, which became a bathtub toy once last fall.
And here I was, for the last two months, calling it her "diaper region" because my worst-case scenario had the kid blurting out "butt" in front of the preschool admissions people.
