Today my daughter played with her wooden Thomas train set, her Lego blocks, her Little People, Play-Doh, watched her favorite shows, drew on her easel with crayons and chalk, read books with me, ran around the house, giggled, got into things I didn't want her to, snuggled up against me, hugged me, kissed me, told me to buy "Cottage cheese, yogurt, (strawberry yogurt), strawberries, and stickers" at the grocery store, and intrigued me with her imagination and intelligence. In other words, a typical day. She says so many words so clearly that I have a fondness for those still pronounced in a childlike manner: lello for yellow, maglet for magnet, poncakes for pancakes. She sleeps with five stuffed animals: two bears, two bunnies and Elmo. She says that the big bunny is the little bunny's Mama and that Big Bunny loves Little Bunny. She likes to fall asleep to a CD of music from a class she attended. I am ready for her to go to bed at bedtime, but if she woke up now, three hours later, I'd be happy to see her for another quick hug.