I'm finishing laundry and packing and collecting all the stuff we've left scattered about my mom's house, all while my daughter spends a few more minutes with her grandma and cousins outside. My daughter knows her grandma (gamma) and aunt (sa) better (especially since I spent yesterday in bed, sick), and her cousins (the kids). She's learned any number of amusing sayings and songs from her aunt and grandma--things like the peanut butter song; the eensy weensy spider; saying, "see you later alligator;" and pointing at people and saying, "ha, ha!" She knows more animals (horses and cows are some of her new favorites; and fishes, which sounds more like feces when she says the word).
Sylvia starts every morning by listing the people and things that are important in her mind--almost like she's cycling through all her words, telling me who she's missed in her sleep. Many of the things that were prominent in Indiana and San Diego have receded in their importance (like the cat and the neighbor's dogs), while new ones have taken their place (kids, Chewy, and Shasta, among others). Almost every morning Sylvia asks for daddy. I'm glad that shortly she'll be able to see her daddy when she asks.