she always asks for cereal and doesn't eat it. but she says she will. so i offer scrambled eggs and she says yes. but they sit on her plate and she smiles when i ask her why she's not eating them. they're cold, she says. i have tried to bribe her and threaten her and she's three years old and she tells me um, um, mommy? do you know why this sticker is orange? her brain lights up like sparklers and chinese new year and her mouth spits out words with shocking clarity, syllables and synapses dancing together and i wonder when exactly she learned how to correct her own grammar. we have dance parties at night and right now it is adele's new album and track number two is her favorite. boomer has it, she sings. rumor has it, i say. but WHY, mommy? why is it roo-mer? and i take a deep breath because we have reached a point now where i have to actually give her the correct answer to questions because she is silly putty. she will later stretch herself out and show what she learned and if i am not careful the words will get mixed up and she will tell her teacher how she drove to target with mommy and teacher? what's a douchebag? she picks out her own clothes and gives us a running update in the car of what her baby brother is up to. he's sleeping, mommy. daddy? the baby is sleeping. she kisses him over and over and over and he still lights up like the fourth of july when she walks in the room.