Hannah’s developed this super-awesome habit of calling us out when we’re teasing her or being ridiculous.

Like when she asked for another cookie or something and I joked, “no way, you’ve had enough,” she just said, “now… do you really think that mom?”

Tonight the older two were carrying her around joking about how light she is. “Dad carry me to bed for bedtime and see how light I am,” she told Ian.

And Ian pretended to struggle to lift her. And while he pantomimes the herculean effort of lifting her, she stood there, non-plussed, saying, “really? Really, dad? You can’t lift me at *all*?”