It was a tough day for BC as a result of much frustration and screaminess from the smallest member of the family, who had a massive bellyache.

BC ordered her own dinner tonight at Cracker Barrel (or Crapper Barrel, and she calls it). After Matt got her strapped in to her high chair, for which she praised him highly and said, "I'm so proud of you," we asked her what she wanted to eat. She said she would have pancakes with booberries and sausage and milkies. We said that would be fine, but that she would need to tell the waitress herself. She said she would. The poor waitress walked up and before she could even finish saying hello, BC said, "Pancakes! With booberries!" The server very sweetly took the order, which BC competently completed with a request for "sausage" and "milkies," and then looked at us and said, "Can I take your drink orders?"

Later, as we left the restaurant, we sat in the rocking chairs for a little while as BC sat in one next to us and then ran over to the checkerboard table and carefully stacked all of the giant checkers as a nod to her OCD. We told her we needed to leave and Matt tried to pick up the car seat containing BC's little brother. BC announced, "We can just leave him here. We don't need him anymore. I want a new little brother." Perhaps a little less screaminess, Tiny One. Apparently you're on thin ice.

As a final note and recognition of her ridiculous memory, she remembered something ridiculously isolated and temporally distant today. I broke my toe about 2 months ago by running the coffee table over it as I was vacuuming. It was the second time I had broken a toe. The first time, as I had told some people two months ago, was when I was in college and fell down the dorm stairs, catching my toe on the vertical railing bars as I fell. Tonight, Matt was praying with her for his niece who was graduating from college. BC piped up, "Mommy broke her toe on a rail there." He said, "Where?" "At college."

Wow.