"Kit-ty."

Rudy doesn't walk yet, although she is a very capable cruiser and can stand in a deep squat for way longer than I can or want to. I think her physical achievements are taking a back seat to the verbal ones, because she's been chatty lately, and her cute little brain can only handle so much.

She can say da-da, ma-ma, hot, wow (sort of), and kitty, so far. "Hot" [pronounced hut, and often whispered] was one of Marley's favorites, too. Bean was like a tiny Paris Hilton when she was one; every flippin' thing she ran into was "hot." "Kitty" is something that Rudy sort of hisses whenever one of our cats, Oliver or Mr. Peterson, strolls by, or whenever she enters a room where one of them is curled up and snoozing. But she's not so good at the k sound. So it sounds more like did-dy, or dit-ty, or, TIT-TY.

And when we went grocery shopping this morning, my sweet, innocent Marley was having a loud and animated conversation with her little sister using the few nouns she knows that Toot can handle. And so there was a lot of, "THAT's not a tit-ty, Wooty!" And, "Tit-ty, Tit-ty, Tit-ty!"

At one point a (mustachioed - and why do I feel the need to point that out?) man crossing our path looked at me kind of surprised and nervous while Marley was laughing about the tit-ties. And then I was all, "No, Marley. It's KIT-ty." And later, "Can you say kit-ty? Kit-ty?) But that was halfhearted, much like every grocery-shopping conversation I have with my kids. I get into a weird, simultaneously distracted and focused trance when I'm heaving that giant wheeeee-it's-a-red-race-car-carriage up and down the aisles. There are many coupons involved. I'm trying to beat the meltdown clock. I need Cookie Crisp and rolls from Silva's and green beans and that's just the start. And my daughters are screaming and laughing about titties. [And you know what? I hate that word. Unhyphenated. I listen to Howard Stern whenever my kids are out of earshot, and I'm still not desensitized to that one.]

But we got out of there with a full carriage and $12 in coupon savings (not my best, but not too shabby), and right now: the dishwasher is churning, Rudy is napping, and two different spicy cinnamon candles are burning. And you know what else? According to the ten-day forecast, we could very well have a white Christmas. Aside from the misinterpreted anatomical profanities, this day is a good one.