Molly with her favorite new (and seemingly indestructible) toy.

Yesterday afternoon Molly taught me two of her top lessons for life:

#1 – When someone offers you something delicious, take it and run away [a rule that a lot of people at buffets would benefit from learning.]

#2 – When your loved one comes home, drop everything you are doing, no matter how pleasant or seemingly important, and run to greet them as though you hadn’t seen them for years, even if it’s only been minutes.

The other day a friend accused me of “putting words in [Molly’s] mouth.”

That’s not fair at all. I try very hard to take down what Molly says word for word.

Today I was picking up the pieces of another shredded toy spread all over the living room.

I asked Molly why she always rips her toys apart.

She looked baffled. “What’s the point of hunting them if I don’t kill them?”

“Well, you’re not exactly hunting them or killing them.” 

“Ohhhhh, some of these toys can be tricky, and really hard to kill.” 

“But if you tear them up, then you don’t have them anymore.” 

“Yes, I do.” She said, “you get me another one.”

“What if I didn’t get you another one?” 

“But it’s in your nature to get me toys. You get me a toy, and I kill it. It is our purpose. Besides”, she confided, “if you didn’t give me toys, I’d kill your shoes.” 

She’s right, of course. It is in our nature. I buy her toys, and she kills them. It is the natural order of things. And I’d rather pick up pieces of toys than pieces of shoes.

Oh, the joy, watching Molly on the security camera footage, having a wonderful time mutilating a post-it note pad that she stole from my desk last night.

Molly is such a child. I like to walk around the house singing songs but making up my own lyrics. "No, daddy, those aren’t the words!" She'll wail, "You're doing it wrong!"

This morning, at breakfast, I asked Molly if she’ll still need me when I’m 64.

“I dunno,” she said. "How old are you now?”

I guess she wants to make an informed decision.

At breakfast this morning, I asked Molly why it is that, when she catches a fly, bee, or other insect, she drops it and then picks it up again, and drops it again, over and over, before finally eating it? Is she just having fun, or does the wriggling insect feel funny so she doesn't eat it until it stops moving, or is it something else?

She just stared at me with that, "you've got to be kidding" expression she gets when I've said something particularly stupid.

This morning at breakfast, I asked Molly, “When we’re playing tug-of-war, do you prefer it when you pull the toy away from me, or when the tug just goes on and on, or when I get the toy and throw it for you to chase?”

She replied, “Yes.”

This morning, at breakfast, I asked Molly if she new what a “tautology” was.

She said, “no.”

I told her, “To know Molly is to love Molly, so to love Molly is to know Molly. That’s a tautology”.

She smiled and said, “I like tautologies.”