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You drew this family portrait the other night. It has your Mom, myself, you and your baby sister in it, all to (rough) proportions.

You were extremely proud, and wanted me to take a picture of it immediately, even though it was almost 10 o’clock at night and you were supposed to be sleeping.

Needless to say, I took the picture. You watched, from your bed, because you just couldn’t sleep until I had done so.

On the way home today, you apologized to me. We were driving along, with nothing in particular going on, when you suddenly called out to me “I’m sorry, Dad!”

I quickly asked “Why, sweetheart?”

My concern was not that you had actually done anything terribly wrong, since you hadn’t had either the time or the freedom to do anything more terrible than forget to hug your bunny.

My concern was more in the fact that something might have transpired in the tranquility of the car ride without me noticing.

I laughed when you clearly and without hesitation responded, with concern in your voice, “A bird pooped on your car.”

This afternoon we had a talk about why pets aren’t allowed in restaurants. You really wanted to be able to take your cat, which is imaginary, into Noodles for dinner.

You seemed to understand that some animals are allowed in restaurants, but that most animals are not. For instance, you readily identified why dogs and cats shouldn’t be allowed in restaurants, saying “They would get hair all over the place.”

But as I tried to explain that certain “pets” are allowed in restaurants (so that you might have some understanding of service dogs), you quickly said “Well, you could take your pet lobster into a restaurant, as long as you didn’t run around.”

To which I had no answer.

The other day we saw some new behavior out of you. You were saying words you know you should not say.

Nothing terrible, of course. But suddenly you spouted phrases like “Damn! What the hell?”

You got in trouble for it. Kind of.

We obviously called you on it. But you reacted as if you had not done anything wrong, which is unusual.

When your mom finally asked you “You know kids don’t say those words, don’t you?” you responded with “Yes. But I am pretending to be the mom!”

It is hard to punish such rationalization.

Tonight, during the bed time routine, your mother said “You need to go upstairs, brush your hair, and then you need to...”

She trailed the end off, with the intention that you fill in the blank.

You, in a moment of pure honesty comedy, yelled “GO CRAZY!!!”

You then danced around the house, as if to demonstrate.