Today Emma was having one of her now usual temper tantrums, lying flat out of the hard wood, arms a' flailing, legs pounding, you know how it goes. And if you don't, you've likely heard me complain about it.
Then out of nowhere, she looked down, noticed a crumb on the floor, stopped crying, handed it to me, then completely resumed the tantrum right where she left off.
Have I mentioned that one of her new favourite toys is a sponge?
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