From time to time I wonder what the Toddler is thinking. There was this morning's first adventure of getting behind my back to open the broiler so she could step up on it to reach the top burners and clatter them against the stove. And play with the knobs again. Then there was this morning's second, cuter adventure, which involved this happy scene:

She slips out into the family room while Mom's getting ready for the Walk to the Park.

About two seconds later she thrusts the door open to allow her exit, and I'm looking over the kitchen counter and see only the top half of the swiffer carpetflick parading at full attention past us- through the dining room, past the kitchen table, and right on out to make it's rounds through the rest of the house.

The Rogue Toddler was finally cornered, swiffering the inside of the shower. She laughs. Looks up at us with those wonderfully guileless eyes, and I fall in love with her all over again. These moments I realize that it doesn't matter that I've been awake for the majority of two days. That she's been awake since 0300 this morning (at least), that she skipped her nap yesterday and was awake for 16 hours straight, and that we're both of us not thinking so clearly. All that matters is that she's laughing and I'm laughing with her and the sun is shining outside at the balmy temperature of 80ish. A beautiful day that I get to share with her.

All that matters, really.