Meet T-r-o-u-b-l-e

Don't let my pint sized little Precious fool you.

The girl is trouble defined. She is so darn lucky she is cute, because boy can she make me want to pull out my own hair. Literally.

She passed through a very troubled phase right before and during our trip to Maine in the summer. Then she calmed down to a much more pleasant and agreeable personality when we came back home. I don't know if it's whenever she is getting new teeth or what, but boy is her troubled nature back with.a.vengeance. I used to affectionately refer to our little Flop as "the cute little thorn in my side." Um, yeah.. Abrie makes those days with Faith seem like a walk in the park.

She's too irresistible though. She knows just what to do to make you want to hug her when she knows she's been a pest. Even after she's tried to give me an eye rake (yes, that is when your 17-month old daughter proceeds to try to claw you from your forehead to your chin) after I've kindly told her that her sisters need their underwear now and that it doesn't need to be displayed anymore on her head (she likes to put both pairs of their underwear on her head, and then knock on the shower door while they're still in the bath-- and, after she's gotten out first and sneakily taken their underwear-- and say 'boo!'), she comes up to me and squats down until she's eye level with me and sings me a song.

My little pistol. Lord, I love my girl!