Eliza has picked up the habit of starting every single sentence she addresses to me with âMommy, mommy MOMMY!â This is simultaneously the cutest and most irritating thing in the world. Depending on where on the spectrum my mood happens to fall, my response ranges from âYes, sweetie, whatâs up?â to {clenched teeth} âWhat?â {/unclench} The last two days, she has requested that we cuddle on the couch in the afternoon, a time during which I am treated like a jungle gym as she requests information