Ah, the joys of having a daughter. Little girls are so sweet. So ladylike. They enjoy quiet activities like tea parties, dress up, coloring.... You can almost hear the cherubic, harp-like music whenever they enter a room, all smiling and clean and free from the intent to fart on you at every turn.
At least, that's what I always thought. Before I actually had one.
Don't get me wrong. I love Elsa. Really, I do. She's fun. She's charming. And she only occasionally sticks incongruous objects up her nose.
But over the past few months I've noticed another quality manifesting itself within this chubby little dynamo of a child:
She is more manipulative than Hannibal Lector trying to get a cellmate to swallow his own tongue.
