The little angel has already mastered "Please, Mommy," with an angelic tone whenever she wants pudding (which we have convinced her is "ice cream").

Tonight, after her bath, I gave her baby spa, which is her nightly rubdown of lavender-and-chamomile-infused lotion.  She immediately wanted to wear her silky pajama bottoms, which are like Mommy's.

As she clamored over me, stepping (it seemed) purposefully RIGHT ON my bladder, she muttered in an off-hand, New York City sort of way, "'Scuse me."

Watch out, world.  She's already avoiding eye contact.