The child is a chatterbox, especially when she's tired. She has started "reading" to whatever mom is putting her to bed, which includes reciting very accurate passages of her favorite books interspersed with rambling monologues about I'm-not-quite-sure-what.
After a tough adjustment to the preschool room at daycare, she's doing really well. She has a "best friend" who is also tiny and well-behaved. LB was upset one day because she and a friend (I mean that in the daycare sense) wouldn't stop lifting up their shirts and giggling and Miss A. told them they were going to get in trouble if they didn't stop. According to LB, "I don't like to get in trouble!"
LB has a great sense of humor and can tell and understand jokes-most of which have the punchline "skunkfish!"
We've had fewer and shorter tantrums lately-more whining, but less honey-badgering, and I'll take it. She will take offense to random things, like telling the dog, "You don't look at me in the eyes like that!" in a super creepy voice. Or, "you don't say 'grinding on that wood'!" Which was a sign that we need to start watching what we say and sing in front of LB, and, despite our embrace of inappropriate music lyrics, any lyrics that glorify Ike Turner should not be sung in front of our young daughter (note that impressive use of the passive voice).
When she feels that she's been wrongly accused, LB will roar in our faces, but when she knows she is in the wrong, she'll say "I'm saaawwee." Which is cute until she says it again and again with increasing desperation, and we talk again about how people can get mad at each other but still love each other. She will also say, often out of the blue, "Mama are you mad at me?" She's a sensitive creature.
LB is also pretty good at taking care of herself, she able to function pretty independently in the bathroom and can get dressed and undressed herself, including putting on a rashguard top by herself, which is pretty impressive for anyone.
And she's got some moves (Note the very appropriate prop. I wanted to get LB to dance in the car, but then, sadly, I realized I'm not that kind of mother.):